Bad Mojo
by KayValo87
Summary: The Winchesters get pulled into the middle of a supernatural land war when a sorcerer orders them to take out the competition ... or pay the price of failure. Limp/Hurt!Sam, Angry/Protective!Dean
1. False Start

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY MYSTERYMADCHEN!!!**

I hope you all like this story, since I am writing it without my editor's help. (Sadly, she was too busy.) So, now you get to see what my writing is like BEFORE she gets a hold of it. ::grimace:: Yeah.

Anyway, sorry it's so short, but that way I can post faster. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1 : False Start**

"You sure this is the right address?"

Sam glanced up from his silent EMF reader to where his brother was scanning the other end of the hallway.

"This is where all the sightings were." Sam confirmed, but he was having doubts of his own.

For the last three weeks there had been dozens of reports of a pale man moving through this abandon house, chasing off the new owners and causing a few accidents, the last one putting a guy in the hospital. It seemed like a simple open and shut case of an angry spirit not wanting their house disturbed, but they couldn't have been more wrong. Not only was the house's history clean, but it was also lacking one important thing … an angry spirit.

"So," Dean shoved his EMF reader back into his pocket, "you hungry?"

Sam nodded, pocketing his own reader and following Dean out to the car. It didn't make any sense. Everything pointed to something being in the house. Flickering lights, strange noises, not to mention Jacob Marley playing catch with kitchen knives, but after spending hours searching the place from top to bottom there wasn't a single sign of a hunting. Something was wrong here, but he just couldn't put his finger on what. He started going through a mental checklist of everything he knew about the case. At least ten people had sworn they saw, felt, or heard something in that house. The EMF readers didn't detect anything, and there was no sign of sulfur. Mass hysteria was one thing, but something tossed Ronald Hanson ten feet through an second floor window.

"Sammy?"

Looking across the top of the Impala, Sam saw a concerned look in his brother's eyes, as Dean braced himself between the top of the car and the drivers side door.

"What?"

"I said are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"Well ... it could be the fact you have been staring at the car for almost five minutes."

Muttering an apology, Sam climbed into his seat and lost himself in thought again. If it wasn't a spirit, a poltergeist, or a demon, what else could it be? A tulpa?

"... so then I thought we could go skinny dipping."

Sam blinked at his brother, suddenly registering what he was saying.

"What?"

"Seriously," Dean shifted in his seat, "what's with you?"

"I'm just trying to figure this out."

"What's there to figure out?" Dean shrugged, starting the car. "It's probably just some local kids playing a prank."

"How many kids do you know that can throw a 200 pound man across a room, much less out a window?"

"Yeah, that is weird." Dean admitted, making his way through the Louisiana town.

"Something is in that house." Sam stated firmly.

"Yeah, but that something left behind no sulfur, no EMF, and no leads."

"Think it's another thought form?"

Dean shrugged, pulling into the diner parking lot.

"Whatever it is, it's not hurting anyone right now, so it can wait until after lunch."

While Dean ordered the food, Sam concentrated on his laptop, rereading the story on the re-modeler's flight to the ground. It gave them everything, all the signs of a classic angry spirit … it was almost like-

"Ow." Sam grunted, his hand moving to the back of his head, rubbing the small burning patch of skin.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." The red haired janitor apologized, moving his mop away from the hunter.

Sam grimaced seeing the chunk of his hair caught in the metal handle.

"It's fine," he muttered, ignoring the dull throb and turning back to the screen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the man smile, but it quickly faded as Dean arrived with their food.

"You okay?" He asked, setting the tray between them.

"Fine." Sam sighed, pulling his plate closer.

"You sure? Because I heard you yell from the register."

"I didn't yell." Sam insisted, motioning to the janitor. "Will Hunting over there just needs to be more careful with the mop."

"Who?" Dean asked, glancing toward the janitor.

"Good Will Hunting … Will was a janitor …" Sam prompted, but saw no recognition in Dean's eyes. "Never mind. I'm been looking over this case and I think I see what's wrong with it."

"What?" Dean mumbled around a mouthful of hamburger.

Ignoring his brother's lack of manners, Sam brought up the article and turned the screen towards Dean.

"The case is perfect," he replied. "Too perfect."

Dean's expression darken as he clearly came to the same conclusion Sam had. The hunt was set up, a lure to bring them here … but why?

*** * * * ***

Damion watch the brothers climb into their black muscle car and speed away. He smiled at their feeble escape attempt, knowing it was already too late. Tossing the janitor's jumpsuit and aluminum mop into a nearby dumpster, Damion casually strolled to his car, smoothing back his fiery hair. He could let the hunters think they had a chance, it didn't matter. Sliding behind the wheel of his sleek blue '99 Camero, Damion opened his palm, admiring the small object that gave him so much power.

"You can run, hunters," he whispered to himself tucking the lock of brown hair safely in his pocket, "but you can never hide."

* * *

Well, that's part one. I am working on part two and will get it up as soon as I finish it. (It will be faster then usual since I am not sending it to anyone.)In the meantime, I would love to know what you think. (But please be kind, this is my first unedited chapter.)


	2. First Strike

Yay! I am so glad people are liking my writing. (Even if my editor wishes she had time to fix it.)

Anyway, I forgot to add a few things to the first chapter.

First and foremost, all you Hurt!Sam/Angry!Dean fans out there, check out laughandlove's story "Desperate Times". In short, stupid HUMANS think that kidnapping and torturing Sammy will make Dean do whatever they want. (Silly people, clearly they know nothing of Winchester justice.) It's just a two shot, but I highly recommend it. :)

Second, the thing we must always do ...

**DISCLAIMER: **Yes they are mine. ALL mine. I keep them in my basement. And you know what? I'm not letting them show any new episodes until after MY birthday. HA! ... psych! IF I owned them, I would TOTALLY have a new episode for my birthday ... ::sigh:: too bad I don't.

Anyway ... here's the next part.

* * *

**Chapter 2: First Strike**

Dean focused on the highway, putting as much distance between him and that house as possible. This whole thing made no sense. Of course there was a mile long list of people who wanted them dead and could have pulled this off, but who would know that THEY would respond to it? Any hunter worth his salt would be able to follow the same trail. Why go to all this trouble and not be able to guarantee your target? Maybe he was just being paranoid, but there was no harm in playing it safe.

"So," he glanced over at his little brother, "where to now?"

Sam was scanning through a few national newspapers they had picked up on the way out of town.

"Um … a teenage girl jumped off a bridge." Sam replied, eyes skimming the article. "Third one this year."

"Could be something. Is it far?"

"Flagstaff, Arizona." Sam shuffled the papers aside, spreading the map on his lap. "Over a thousand miles."

"Perfect."

Dean smiled, popping in some Metallica for the drive. The sooner they were out of Louisiana, the better.

Eight hours later, both of the brothers were ready to call it a night. Pulling into the first small motel they came to, Dean headed toward the office to check in, leaving Sam to get the bags. Dropping his duffel on the bed closest to the door Dean threw Sam the car keys.

"Go get some dinner," he instructed. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Get your own dinner." Sam grumbled, tossing the keys back. "I'm going to bed."

"Come on man," Dean groaned. "I've been driving all day."

"I offered to drive like five times." Sam pointed out, pulling his sleep pants out of his bag.

"Well you can drive now." Dean stated, throwing the keys back with a grin. "And don't forget the extra onions."

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "We ate like three hours ago, how can you be THAT hungry."

Dean shrugged, pulling out some clean clothes.

"Be sure to get some pie while your out."

With a frustrated sigh, Sam pulled on his coat and headed out the door. By the time he got back Dean had finished his shower and was already looking into their next hunt.

"Here." Sam dropped the bag on the table and shrugged off his coat.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean shoved a handful of fries into his mouth and turned back to the laptop.

"Find anything?"

"No' ye'" he mumbled.

He was almost into the local police files when a small moan put his big brother instincts on high alert. Looking ove, he saw Sam perched on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"Sammy? You okay?"

A second later Sam was tumbling towards the floor.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, rushing to his brother's aid.

"D'n." Sam groaned, his face contorted in pain.

"Sam?" Dean fought to keep down his rising panic. "Talk to me Sammy, what's wrong."

"M' head."

Oh please don't let it be one of those d&%^ visions, Dean thought bitterly. He gently lowered Sam to the the rough carpet, where he curled up on his side, still clutching his head.

"It … hurts." The words came out as a painful grunt follow by a cry of pain.

"Sam!"

Watching his little brother writhing on the floor, Dean racked his brain for anything that would help, but all he could do was sit and watch his sibling's agony as it stretched into the night.

Dean woke with his back propped against the bed, the early morning light streaming through the curtains. Looking down, he saw Sam, curled against his side, and gently brushed his bangs back to get a good look at his relaxed face. The pain had finally subsided, allowing the younger hunter to sleep in peace … but not until three in the morning. It wasn't a vision, but that scared him even more. Not knowing what was causing it or how to stop it, Dean had reached a level of helplessness he never wanted to feel again. Pushing himself to his feet, Dean pulled back the blankets and contemplated how to get his gigantic brother off the floor.

"Come on Sammy." He coaxed gently, pulling him upright.

"Hmm?" Sam's eyes opened to slits.

"Just for a second."

After a lot of work, Dean manged to wrestle him onto the bed where he instantly stretched out, pulling the pillow towards his face. Flipping off the lamp and closing the curtains, Dean blocked as much of the light from the room as he could. While Sam slept, Dean moved over to the laptop, still on the page he had been on the night before, and pushed it closed. Slipping into bed, Dean kept a close eye on his brother until exhaustion finally took hold and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

*** * * * ***

Damion propped his feet on the dashboard of his classic car and sent a tired smile towards the hotel that the two hunters had sought refuge in. He had relished the screams echoing from the tiny room, could almost feel the fear from the parking lot.

"I told you that you can not hide." Damion whispered.

Stretching out he decided to catch a bit of sleep himself, give them a break before the next demonstration of his power. Leaning the seat back, Damion allowed his hand to hang down so his fingers brushed against his newest creation.

"Enjoy your rest, hunters," he murmured, slipping on a pair of sunglasses, "while you still can."

* * *

Okay, I'm going to leave you here because I need sleep, but I promise at least one (if not two) more chapters tomorrow. :)

Until then, I would love to here what you think. (So please push the button. :) )


	3. Flash Fire

Okay, so I am not entirely please with how this chapter turned out, I'll try to make the next one better.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Flash Fire**

Sam slowly became aware of a comfortable warmth that surrounded him and smelled like laundry soap. Picking his head up off the pillow, he looked around wondering how he got into bed. Seeing Dean snoring nearby, it wasn't hard to figure out what happened. With a small smile, Sam slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to wake his brother. After grabbing his clothes and heading into the bathroom, Sam soon found himself braced against the tiled walls, a hot spray pulsing across his back. While the water went to work, loosening up his sore muscles, Sam tried to figure out what had happened the night before. What began as a sharp pain behind his eye had taken only a matter of seconds to become pure agony, at least twice as bad as any vision.

Cutting his sower short, in case the pain decides to go for a second round, Sam quickly got dressed. But when reaching for his over-shirt, a strange burning sensation past over the side of his left arm. Pausing, Sam inspected the spot, flexing his arm. Nothing … until he reached for his shirt once more. A scream torn out of his throat as he clutched his arm to his chest. Sinking to the floor, he started in horror as his arm began to turn red.

"Sam!"

He could hear his brother pounding on the door, but was unable to answer, distracted my the small blisters beginning to form. The splintering of cheap wood announced Dean's arrival, but Sam's eyes were locked on his damaged appendage.

"Oh s&*%^." Dean muttered, just before Sam found himself hauled off the floor and his arm shoved under the faucet.

The cold water should have helped, but the burning sensation did not let up. For several minutes the cool liquid battled the mysterious burns until, finally, the pain began to subside.

"I'm okay Dean," he gasped as soon as he found his voice.

His brother looked far from convinced. After several more minutes, Dean soaked a small hand towel, carefully warping it around the affected area and leading Sam back to his bed.

"Stay." he ordered, before heading out to the car.

Silently starring at the towel, Sam didn't hear his broter come back until he was hovering right in from of him.

"Let me see."

As gently as possible, they removed the towel and got a good look at the damage. The marred skin covered half his forearm, some part where a sickening red while others were peeling or blistered. Though wincing as Dean turned his arm to see the whole injury, Sam bit his lip, determined not to scream again.

"Son of a b%&$. Dean growled, opening up the first aide kit at his feet.

Fighting the urge to whimper, Sam held his arm up while Dean wrapped a large gauze pad around it.

"It's not even that bad, Sammy." Dean assured him, but he could tell the smile was forced.

Sam had seen enough burns in his time to recognize a second degree burn when he saw one. Though they weren't fatal, most of the time not even scarring, they still hurt like a b$*#^.

"Thanks Dean." Sam sighed, as Dean finished applying the loose bandage.

"So how'd it happen?" His older brother questioned, cleaning up the first aid supplies.

"I don't know." Sam admitted, carefully easing on his flannel shirt. "One minute I'm fine and the next …"

"Just like the headache?" Dean asked, placing the kit by the wall.

Sam nodded, fingering the white gauze. What the h^$% was going on here? First it felt like someone was using his brain as an oversized pin cushion, now they tried to flame broil his arm? He shuttered to think of what was going to come next.

"We're going to beat this Sam." Dean promised.

"We don't even know what's doing it." Sam pointed out.

He looked up to see determination and rage flashing in Dean's eyes.

"Then we'll just have to find out." He stated, his voice hard. "And when we do he's the one who is going to burn."

*** * * * ***

Damion studied the silver lighter in his hand, toying with the idea of going a second round. He had been disappointed at the lack of screams this time around, but took comfort in knowing that the pain he cause would not go away as quickly as the episode the night before. Tossing the lighter on the seat next to him, he turned his attention back to the room. He plan was going perfectly, the Winchesters were almost there. A couple more demonstrations and they would be begging him to make it stop.

"What to do next." He murmured, fingering his creation.

While running through a mental list of all the things he could try, Damion decided to wait a bit, give the hunters a chance to catch their breath … breath?

"Perfect." He sighed, leaning back into his leather seat.

Turning back to the small object in his hand, Damion smiled as he imagined the looks on the brothers' faces.

"Enjoy your break, hunters," he whispered, "the fun is just beginning."

* * *

Okay, I realized today that I could make this story as long or as short as I want ... but since this is a birthday fic, and therefore a story for my readers, I decided to let you decide. I have three different lengths to choose from ...

Short = 12 chapters

Classic = 20 chapters

Special = 25 chapters (You will see a few of these this holiday season :) )

Since it was MysteryMadchen's birthday her vote will count as 2, but I will go with whatever length most people want. (So if you have a prefrence, please let me know.) One the other hand, reviews of any kind are more then welcome. :)


	4. Just Breathe

Okay, so I know I said I would post more then this, but in my defense I work a 8 hour shift that is rather exhausting. (Not to mention the time it takes me to research each injury Damion dishes out so I can describe/treat it properly.)

Anyway, I don't work tomorrow, so I should be able to post 2 or 3 chapters before I go to bed.

BTW, I know I am SUPPOSED to be writing this without my editor's help, but she was hanging outy at my house today and started reading over my shoulder. (So most of this one IS edited ... just not the last part.)

So, without farther delay, here is the next chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 4: Just Breathe**

Dean ran a hand through his hair, as he researched what could have the power to do this. Problem was, what couldn't? There was a laundry list of supernatural freaks capable of using his brother as their own personal plaything, but he was getting sick of these sadistic games.

"So Joshua is checking out flagstaff?" Sam questioned, leafing through an old tome.

"That's what Bobby said." Dean confirmed, pulling up a new web-page.

He had called him just after the latest injury surfaced and Bobby was ready to help in anyway he could, starting with reassigning their hunt. Dean wasn't taking on anything until the b^s%a*d who hurt Sam was pushing up daisies.

"Any luck?"

"Too much," Dean almost growled. "A witch, a demon, a ghost, a demigod, and that's just the short list, it could be anything."

"Great." Sam sighed, running his hand over the gauze that covered half of his left arm.

"Hey," Dean waited until Sam looked up, "we'll get this guy."

Sam nodded and turned back to his book, probably trying to hide the doubt and fear Dean knew was in his eyes. He was going to kill this thing for hurting his brother, and it would not be done with mercy. This son of a b&%#* had signed its death warrant when it targeted Sam. No one screwed with the Winchesters.

"Dean?"

The voice was more of a whimper, but it had Dean racing to the bed in a heartbeat.

"Sammy?" He asked, scanning for any clue as to what was happening. "What's wrong?"

Sam's eyes were clenched shut and his breathing had been reduced to pain filled gasps; hands twisting his shirt, gripping his chest.

"Can't … "

"SAM!"

Dean watched in horror as his brother twisted on the bed, frantically clawing at his throat, struggling for air. Moving forward wanting to do something, ANYTHING to help, Sam pushed his hands away, rolling off the bed and into the corner. Dean watched helplessly as he forced himself to back up to give his brother the space he needed.

Sam finally manged to suck in a full breath and winced. Gently placing his hands on his ribs, Sam switched to short shallow breaths.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, taking a step forward.

"I think they're … cracked." Sam grunted, biting his lower lip.

A new wave of fury swept through Dean as he realized EXACTLY what happened. Suffocation … cracked ribs … the b^s#a*d had freaking tried to crushed him! Snatching the first aide kit from where he left it, he dug out the ace bandage.

"Okay," he said, turning back to Sam, "where does it hurt?"

Sam froze before giving him a strange look.

"Seriously?"

"Right." Dean tossed the wrap back towards the kit.

Wrapping wasn't going to be effective if you didn't know where the ribs are cracked, and it would probably cause more harm than good.

"Plan 'B' then."

Dean pulled back the covers as he helped Sam carefully climb into bed. Pulling the blanket over his brother's legs, Dean did a scan to make sure there was nothing else he could do. Sam propped his shoulders against the headboard and closed his eyes, leaning back against his pillow and resting his head on the wall. Dean silently watched, almost afraid to look away. It seemed every time he took his eyes off Sam his brother just got hurt again.

"Dude, stop staring, it's kinda creepy."

"You knew what I was doing when your eyes were closed. THAT was creepy."

"Bite me."

"Pass."

A small smile spread across Sam's face and his eyes opened to slits.

"Seriously, I'm not going to burst into flames. Just go research so we can figure out what's causing this."

Dean nodded, but was slightly unsettled by his brother's promise. Spontaneous combustion hadn't even crossed his mind until now.

"Dean." Sam whined when he didn't move.

"Right." Dean said, hiding his fears as best he could. "I'll be … over there."

He sat down at the lap top, but kept half his focus on the young man resting nearby. There was no telling when the next attack would come, but in Sam's condition anything would be too much.

*** * * * ***

Damion continued his watch of the hotel room, wishing he could see the looks on the two hunters faces when he had squeezed the air out of younger one's chest. There was no telling how much damage he caused, but the lack of anguished cries assured him that his victim was still alive.

"Hmm," he murmured to himself. "One more demonstration should just about do it … but what?"

Rifling through a box of his favorite instruments, Damion's eyes grew wide with excitement. He held up the long, thick, pin, admiring the sunlight that reflected off it's needle sharp point.

"Perfect."

After this, there was no way the Winchesters would be able to stand against him … literally.

* * *

I'm sorry this (and the last one) were so short, but I didn't want you all to have to go more then a day without an update.

Oh and before I forget, I got only 2 votes on how long to make the story, and they were the same. So, unless more then 2 people object, I'm going for the "special" length of 25 chapters. Yay. :)

Well, I'm going to bed, I have a full day of writing ahead of me. ;) Let me know how I am doing. Reviews really do encourage me to post faster (If you don't believe me, ask Fae how many times I have bugged her to edit because "the readers want more".)


	5. Feeling Lost

Okay, this one is all me. I hope you like it. :)

* * *

**Chapter 5: Feeling Lost**

Sam concentrated on his breathing, trying to minimize the pain, but he had gone through cracked ribs enough times to know that, no matter what he did, it was still going to hurt like a b^#%.

"How ya doing?"

"About the same as the last time you asked me."

He had been able to feel Dean's eyes on him almost non-stop since he got in bed. He understood his brother's concern, he'd be the same way if the rolls were reversed, but that didn't mean he didn't wish that Dean would just focus on the research so they could stop this d$*& thing and get on with their lives.

After several hours of resting, Sam slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, gasping as the movement jarred his ribs.

"Hey," Dean was at his side a second later, "what the h^$% do you think your doing?"

"I'm just going to the bathroom."

"Alight." He reached down to help him up.

"It's three feet away, I think I can make it."

Despite his assurances, Dean helped him ease up into a standing position and make his way to the bathroom door. Sam looked from the tiny room to his brother. This was one place where he didn't need, or want, any help. Based on the look on Dean's face, he was in total agreement.

"Um … I'll be over there."

"Yeah."

While his brother went back to work, Sam moved into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Don't lock it!"

Sam rolled his eyes but complied, not wanting Dean to have to break it … again. When he was done, he pushed open the door and found his brother ready to help him back to the bed, briefly wondering if he had been standing there the whole time.

"Easy." Dean murmured as Sam slid back onto the mattress.

"I've got it." Sam assured him, leaning back against the pillows.

"You sure?"

Sam just nodded, carefully shifting back into a comfortable position while Dean went back to the computer. But just as he started to relax, he felt a twinge in his lower back. S*^$%! If there was one thing he had figure out about this thing was minor discomfort was just the beginning … it was about to get a whole h&^# of a lot worse.

"Dean?"

His brother looked up just as the twinge turned into a sharp, stabbing pain. A scream rip from his throat as he instinctively he arched his back, which only succeed in stretching his chest and causing a fire to move across his ribs.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"My … back." He manged to grind out between clenched teeth.

Surprisingly, the sharp pain soon lessened to nothing more then a dull ache. As confused as he was for the fast relief, Sam wasn't about to complain.

"Sammy?"

He looked up to see Dean's concern filled eyes.

"I'm okay now." He promised, giving his brother a small smile.

"You sure?"

"Yeah … I can barely feel it."

"Alright then."

Dean patted his blanket cover leg and turned away … giving Sam a horrifying revelation. He tested his theory and his horror grew to a near panic.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, his voice shaky.

"What is it?" Dean moved back to his side.

"I … I can't feel my legs."

"What?"

Pulling back the blanket, Dean rubbed his knuckles against his thigh, but it had no effect. Sam fought back tears as he watched his brother trying to stimulate the numb appendages. How could he hunt without his legs? How could he protect his brother if he couldn't even stand? He was useless now.

"Hey." Dean snapped, giving him a hard look. "Stop whatever you're thinking, this is temporary."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm the oldest and I said so."

"I don't think that applies here Dean." Sam's grumbled, his gaze dropping to his hands.

"Sam?"

Quickly wiping away the few tears that managed to fall, Sam looked up at his brother.

"We are going to beat this. I'm gonna stop until you're walking again."

Sam smiled, knowing that Dean meant every word. If there was one thing Winchesters didn't do easily it was give up.

"That or until I get my hands on the fugly b^s*a%d who did this," Dean added, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever comes second."

Dean covered him back up and returned to the laptop. Sam just smiled and shook his head, knowing that there were only two absolutes in his brother's mind … he would be fine and his attacker was a dead man. Despite the lingering doubt, Sam knew he had to cling to that hope. Otherwise, the enemy would win.

*** * * * ***

Damion grabbed his coat from the back and double checked the pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

"Won't be long now." His vice almost giddy with anticipation.

Everything he had done so far had led up to this moment, and he was going to be ready. Pulling on his oversized coat, Damion reached for a small red bundle, the key to his whole plan, and carefully slipped in into his pocket.

Closing the car door, Damion took a second to admire his reflection in the tinted window, smoothing back his fire red hair. This was it. No more demonstrations, no more hiding in the shadows. It was time to face the music. Walking up to the hotel room door, he tried to contain his excitement.

"Ready or not," he knocked upon the wood, "here I come."

* * *

So, my sister thinks I evil for putting Sam through all this crap, what do you guys think?

COMING SOON: Dean meets Damion ... you can imagin how well THAT will go over.

BTW, feel free to make suggestions for what you want to see, especially you MysteryMadchen. This is a story for the readers and I will try to put what you want to see in it. (Who knows, I may even do what Monkymuse wants and toss a little hurt Dean in the mix.) I have 20 chapters left, so a lot can happen. :)


	6. Enemy Revealed

Believe it or not, at one point I was wanting to make this story REALLY short and the contents of this chapter were SUPPOSE to be chapter 2. Gotta love when your muse hijacks the story huh? :)

Here ya go ...

* * *

**Chapter 6: Enemy Revealed**

Dean looked up when he heard the knock, grabbing his Colt 1911 from the table. Casting a wary glance at his brother, Dean made his way over to the door. It was too dark to see anything through the peephole, which gave him a bad feeling about who was on the other side. Waiting until Sam had retrieved his own gun from the nightstand, Dean opened the door and came face to face with a wiry little man that looked to be around Sam's age. He had wide brown eyes, a shock of red hair, and wore a large army coat that seemed three sizes too big for his slender frame. Looking up at him, the man smiled and Dean was instantly reminded of the disappearing cat from that stupid Disney movie Sam made him watch fifteen times while they had the chickenpox.

"Good evening hunters." The man said cheerfully, leaning on the door frame.

Instantly on edge, Dean shifted slightly so that he was not only towering over the five and a half foot intruder, but also blocking the man's view of his brother.

"Let's not get testy," He spoke with a light tone, side stepping his way into the room, "I'm just here to talk."

"So talk." The older brother stated.

The over-sized munchkin hardly seemed to be a threat, but Dean kept himself between him and Sam just the same.

"Relax," his grin widened, "it's not like you can protect your brother from me anyway."

Dean's glare darkened, but this only seemed to make the little creep happier. The guy looked over to where Sam lay and, if possible, his smile got bigger.

"This is even better then I imagined." He whispered gleefully.

That was all Dean needed to hear to know that this was the sadistic b$s*a&d who was torturing Sam. Grabbing the front of his coat and shoving him into the wall, Dean plowed his fist into the guy's smug face.

"You son of a b&%$#!" He growled, "I'm gonna f&^%ing kill you!"

No sooner had he pulled his first back for a second blow, that Sam let out a strangled scream. Keeping one hand on the a#$hole Dean looked over his should to see his brother writhing in agony.

"I'll make it stop if you back off." The man said sweetly.

Without another choice, Dean let go and took a few steps back, glancing at Sam as he did. His brother leaned back against the pillows as the pain lines lessened. Grinning again, but not quite as much as he was, the little dick straightened his coat and wiped a tricked of blood from his lip.

"You better hope you didn't leave any DNA on me, or you'll be joining Sam on misery island."

Dean scowled, racking his brain to figure out what they were dealing with. The b#s^a%d seemed human enough … physically anyway. Mentally the guy made Joker look sane.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded.

"Well that's the question isn't it." His smile returned to maximum size. "What do I want."

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Dean. Studying the sketch, Dean could believe what he was seeing. This is what it all came down to?

"A talisman?!" He crumbled the picture, throwing it across the room. "You're doing all this crap for a freaking hunk of copper?!"

"I'm glad you know what it is." The psycho said calmly, as if not noticing Dean's temper … or more likely enjoying it. "A protection charm like that can be very useful to someone like me."

"It can't stop a fist." Dean pointed out with a smirk of his own.

Letting his smile drop slightly, the man reached into his pocked.

"You are in no positions to be making threats, Dean."

Hearing a gasp, Dean turned to see Sam, eyes wide, frantically gripping his throat.

"Let him go." His vice hard. "NOW!"

"Not until you apologize."

"I'm sorry that you are a raging lunatic with some sort of copper fetish."

"Now now, that's not very nice."

The quiet gasps stopped and Dean saw that Sam's air was now completely cut off.

"Would you like to try again?"

Dean could see his brother weakening and knew he didn't have much time.

"Sorry." Dean ground out. "Now. Let. Him. Go."

The a&$hole made a show about considering the apology before taking his hand out of his pocket and allowing his brother to breath again.

"Sammy. You okay?"

"I'm great." He wheezed.

"See?" He smiled. "I can be civilized."

Of all the sadistic b#s%a&ds Dean had run across, of all the horrible things they had done, nothing compared to what he wanted to do to this guy. Whether he was human or not, he had crossed a line. This guy was beyond dead.

*** * * * ***

Damion watch happily as the older Winchester continued to shield his brother, as if that would do anything.

"So quiet Dean, did I upset you?"

"You son of a-"

He cut off when he saw Damion reach towards his pocket.

"Very good, hunter." He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. "You're learning."

"What happens if we bring you the talisman." Sam panted.

Looks like taking his air supple, twice in one day, was staring to had an effect on the young hunter. From what Damion could see, he was laying limp on the bed too weak to retrieve his gun from the floor.

"I'll let you walk again." Damion answered with a smile.

"And if we don't?" Dean glared.

Very carefully, Damion patted his pocket, causing Sam to twist on the bed, whimpering in pain.

"I have a good imagination," His grin widened, "do you?"

* * *

That's all for now. I am off to dinner. Let me know what you think so far. :)

COMING SOON: The source of Damion's control.


	7. Target Acquired

Okay, let's recap ...

Sam is practically bedridden

Damion is a complete psychopath

Dean is in a psychopathic killing mood

Let's see how this plays out ...

* * *

**Chapter 7: Target Acquired**

Sam closed his eye, taking as deep a breath as he dared. He hated the way he was stuck on the bed, helpless, while some maniac taunted his brother nearby. Whatever was causing this was in the guy's pocket. If only they could get it, maybe they would have a chance.

Straining his neck, Sam peered around Dean, trying to get a look at the pocket in order to gauge the size of what the man was hiding.

"I see you are a curious one." The man said, ducking down into his line of sight.

Getting his first good look at the intruder, Sam instantly recognized him from the diner, and managed to put the pieces together.

"You have a voodoo doll." He whispered, half to himself.

The man's grin widened, reminding Sam of the Cheshire Cat from 'Alice in Wonderland'.

"He really is a cleaver one isn't he?"

"A voodoo doll?" Dean asked, anger and shock mingling in his voice. "You're telling me that you are able to do all this s&%^ with a chunk of fabric covered moss, but you need help to find a dinky little charm?"

His smile lessened slightly as anger flared up in his eyes.

"I don't NEED anything." The man said smoothly, his hand inching towards his pocket. "But for someone of my power, I get what I want. Now, I want YOU to get me that talisman. Understand?"

As he said the last word, a sharp pain shot through Sam shoulder as he felt his arm starting to pull out of his socket. Gritting his teeth, he tried to breath through the pain …only to to reminded that breathing itself was painful.

"Leave him alone you son of a b^$&%!" Dean growled.

"Do you understand?" The man repeated, his voice calm with a hint of enjoyment.

"Yeah, I f^$%ing understand, now LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"I don't think I like your tone. I think you should apologize again."

A scream tore out of Sam's throat as he felt his arm slowly separating from his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, alright? Now you leave him alone or I swear-"

"Fine."

Allowing as deep a breath as he was able, Sam leaned back against the pillow. His shoulder had returned to it's normal position, but a throbbing pain had been added to his growing list of injuries. And there was still one question burning in his mind.

"Why us? Why not pick another hunter."

The playful, and slightly psychotic, gleam returned to his tormentor's eyes as his smile returned to it's usual size.

"He really is smart isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's a freaking genius, now answer the d%^# question."

"Well, for you information, I didn't choose you." His grin widened. "You choose yourselves."

"What?!" Dean demanded, sharing a brief look with Sam.

"You took my bait." The man explained. "You see I-"

"You set up the false hunt, targeting whoever came to investigate." Sam interrupted and the rest of the pieces fell in place.

The man actually scowled at him, his hand slowly moving towards his pocket.

"Now you're just getting annoying," his smile slowly returned, "perhaps I shall just shut you up for a while."

"Hey," Dean stepped between them. "Just take it easy. He won't interrupted you again, will you Sam?"

"No." Sam promised.

He wished Dean would move so he could see the psycho again, but had to settle for just hearing their voices.

"One more out-bust …"

"He won't."

"Fine." He sighed. "Now where was I? Ah yes, the hunt. Originally, I didn't care who I snared as long as it was a hunter, but you can imagine my surprise when the famed Winchester brothers come to my meager little town. It was too good to be true."

Of course it was, Sam thought to himself, he wouldn't be able to cause nearly as much pain if only one hunter was involved.

"You see, thought with my power I could easily have done it with just one, It would not have been nearly as much fun." The nut job said happily, making Sam grateful he had kept his mouth shut. "Besides that, you're the WINCHESTERS, I mean WOW! Your hunts are the stuff of legends … and the whole brother thing really fit nicely with my plan."

"And what plan is that? Send us to a pawn shop? Run your errands for you?"

The man chuckled a little and Sam strained his neck, trying to see his face.

"No no no. The talisman I want is very specific, it belongs to a bokor named Ezekiel.

"So, you want us to barter with a voodoo sorcerer?"

"No … I want you to steal from him."

*** * * * ***

Damion watched as the older hunter processed his instructions. He turned to look over his shoulder at his brother.

"You hear that Sammy, the great and powerful OZ wants us to steal for him."

Scowling at the hunter, Damion pulled the red bundle from his pocket.

"Don't get so cocky Dean," He warned carefully unwrapping the bandanna, "there is still much I can do."

His grin returned as he saw the hunter back down at the sight of the small black doll.

"In fact," Damion continued gleefully. "I need only move the pin in it's back …"

He pushed the line pin slightly to the right and allowed Sam's whimpers to say the rest. Re-wrapping the doll and slipping it back into his pocket, Damion turned to smile at the hunters knowing they were now putty in his hands.

* * *

So, what do you think of Damion's assessment of the situation?

I'm going to get started on the next chapter right away, so I'll get it up as soon as possible. In the meantime, let me know what you think. (You may notice that my chapters do actually go up faster when people review.)

Side note: I was asked about the way I write swear words, so I thought I would explain. In Jr high and high school, I used to teach preschool Sunday school, so I never allowed myself to start swearing. (The LAST thing you want to do is say THOSE words in front of 3-year-olds. They are human parrots)However, the characters do, so I came up with a compromise. I use symbols because that is what is used in comics and cartoons in place of swearing. I hope that clears everything up. :)


	8. Tough Choices

Can you believe that I originally wanted 6,7,and 8 to make up chapter 2? (But that was before I saw how much you guys loved the story and decided to make it long ... about five times longer then I had originally planned.)

Anyway, here's the next part ...

* * *

**Chapter 8: Tough Choices**

Dean watched the smug smile spread across the b^s%a$d's face, knowing the guy already thought he won. Personally, Dean didn't give a d^%& about the stupid talisman. It was just a protection charm, not common but also not rare. What he didn't like was the idea of stealing from a bokor. Though they were technically human, bokors were masters of magic and could be just as dangerous as a pissed off witch.

"So this is your plan?" Dean fumed. "Use your tricks to get us to do your dirty work? What, are you too scared of this guy to go and get it yourself?"

He just wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face, but Dean could tell he struck a nerve.

"I'm NOT scared of Ezekiel!" He spat. "I just have better things to do then to chase after talismans."

Right, like set up elaborate traps to get other people to do it for you, Dean thought bitterly. But seeing how that a$&hole was unstable enough without his help, he didn't want to tempt him to hurt Sam some more. Luckily, he calmed down and went back to grinning.

"The address is on the back on the sketch, you have thirty hours to get me the talisman … or your precious baby brother will never walk again."

Dean could feel Sam tense at the threat, his own emotions torn between fear and pure rage.

"I'll get it."

The man nodded and slipped out of the hotel, disappearing into the night.

Dean slammed the door and turned to Sam. The pain lines were still there, but not as bad as they were before. Though he was clearly exhausted, his eyes were bright with emotion.

"Dean … you can't do this."

"What are you talking about?" Dean retrieved Sam's gun from the floor, placing it back on the nightstand. "You doubt my abilities?"

"You know that's not what I mean." Sam scowled. "Going against a bokor without back up is suicide."

"Well what do you want me to do, huh?" Dean snapped. "Let this deranged son of a b%^$& keep torturing you? Just stand by while he takes your legs and God only knows what else? I don't think so, Sam."

Dean could the tears of fear in his brother's eyes and had a flashback of River Grove, of Sam begging him to leave him to die at the hands of a demon virus. Didn't happen then and it wasn't going to happen now.

Grabbing the paper off the floor, Dean smoothed it out and somehow manged to decipher most of the address, which was a feat in itself since he had seen doctor's with better handwriting. Pulling out the laptop he started trying to piece together the bokor's location, wondering if the a$^hole had done this on purpose to make it harder for them to do what he wanted. By the time he figured it out, Sam had fallen asleep, which he was very grateful for when he saw where he needed to go. Sam could barely make it to the bathroom, how the h%&^ was he going to get him back to Louisiana? Dean flipped out his phone and hit redial.

"Hello?"

"Bobby? It's Dean."

"Hey Dean, did you figure out what was attacking Sam."

"Yeah, we found him alright." Dean growled. "Some sick b%s#a*d with a voodoo doll. He wants me to steal a talisman for him."

"What talisman?"

"A protection talisman from a bokor in Louisiana."

"Is Sam in any shape to face a bokor?"

"No, the son of a b^%&$ paralyzed him and said he won't fix it until he has the talisman."

"You're going after a bokor alone?"

"Well I'm sure as h&%^ not taking Sam. That 's actually why I called. How long would it take you to get to Vernon, TX?"

"Texas? I thought the bokor was in Louisiana."

"It is. We're in Texas."

He didn't like the idea of Sam having to go through an eight hour road trip in his condition. Then again he also didn't like the idea of being five hundred miles away from his injured brother either, but this was the best option for Sam.

"I'll be there in twelve hours."

"Thanks Bobby."

Dean hung up and checked his watch. It would take about sixteen hours round trip, plus the time it would take him to break in and find the thing. Adding that to Bobby's twelve hour travel time that left no room for error. Turning back to the laptop, Dean started researching anything he could on his target. He was going to take the d^&% talisman … get the d#*$ doll … then break the guy's d%#^ neck.

*** * * * ***

Damion picked around his mushroom chicken, trying find another piece of zucchini. This plan was working out so well, he had decided to treat himself to some Chinese. He had no doubt Dean would get him what he asked for, the man would probably cut off his own arm if it meant he would save his brother. Glancing at the doll on the passenger seat, Damion smiled at the memory of how he practically had the great Dean Winchester begging.

"Maybe next time I'll make him apologize on his knees." He chuckled, spearing a mushroom.

And with the older Winchester's attitude there WOULD be a next time. After all, the talisman was only the beginning.

* * *

Aren't you glad we have Bobby. :)

I'll get started on the next one soon, hopefully before I go to bed tonight. In the meantime, you know I love to hear from you guys. :)


	9. Third Man

I forgot to mention this before, this takes place in mid to late season 2. Just thought I would clear that up.

Here ya go ...

* * *

**Chapter 9: Third Man**

Sam set aside his breakfast sandwich and coffee. The thought of his brother going on a possible suicide run had made him loose his appetite.

"I will spoon feed you applesauce if I have to." Dean said without looking up from the laptop.

"I'm not hungry."

"Pretend."

Rather then argue over something as stupid as breakfast, Sam picked up the sandwich and forced down a few bites followed by a gulp or two of coffee.

"How's the research coming?

"It would be a lot better if the psycho had bothered to give us Ezekiel's last name."

He had been on the computer most of the night and all morning, feverishly trying to find information of Ezekiel and the talisman, most importantly, why this guy wanted it so badly?

"Dean," Sam said quietly, staring at his coffee, "you don't have to do this."

"Sam," Dean turned towards him, "we already talked about this. Would you rather stay like that? I definitely don't want to have to keep helping you in the bathroom."

Sam turned red as he remembered the events of that morning. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in a wheel chair, but it was better then going the rest of his life without his brother.

"If you are going to go, at least bring Bobby with you." Sam reasoned. "At least trhen you would havesomeone watching your back."

"And leave you alone?" Dean faced the laptop. "No gonna happen, Sammy."

"But Dean-"

"Sam." He closed his eyes in frustration. "Just drop it, okay?"

Slouching as well as he could, Sam spent the rest of the morning silently watching Dean get ready. just after Dean finished changing his bandage, there was a knock on the door.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby." Dean said, letting the hunter in.

"Someone has got to keep an eye on you idjits." Bobby dropped his bag in the corner and moved to Sam's side."How ya doing?"

He tried to smile, but ending up just staring at his hands.

"Anything else happen that I don't know about?" Bobby asked, turning towards Dean.

"Uh … aside from the burn and paralysis, he's got cracked ribs and a sore shoulder."

Sam looked up as Dean gathered his research and any weapons he would need.

"I just checked the bandage, and there are some pain killers in the bathroom if you need them. I'll be back around two. He ate about an hour ago so he should be okay until-"

"Boy, I used to babysit YOU." Bobby said irritably. "I think I can handle this."

Dean nodded, zipped up his duffel, and walked over to Sam.

"Anything happens, you call me, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "just … be careful."

"Hey," he flashed one of his trademark grins, "I'm always careful."

Checking his watch, Dean pulled on his coat.

"Well, I gotta get going. Take care of him Bobby."

"You know I will. Now git."

Grabbing his bag and snatching his keys off the nightstand, Dean rushed out the door.

"See ya later Sammy." He called over his shoulder.

"Bye Dean." Sam whispered, as the sound of the Impala's engine faded away.

Sam looked up from his book to the plate Bobby set on the nightstand.

"No thanks."

"You have to eat something."

"If I don't will you spoon feed me applesauce?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Sam muttered with a hint of a smile.

He turned the clock towards him. 5:48.

"You think Dean made it to Pinesville yet?"

"The way he drives, I wouldn't doubt it. Now eat, cause I ain't taking any heat from your brother because you didn't."

Sam reluctantly nodded and reached for the sandwich … just as a wave of heat passed over the inside of his right forearm.

"Bobby?" He said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

This was exactly what happened right before he got burned!

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, scanning him from head to toe.

His answer turned into a scream as a red hot pain pressed into his wrist. Looking down he saw the letter "C" blistered into his skin.

"Son of a b^%&$." Bobby muttered, scooping him up in his arms.

By the time they reached the bathroom, "H" and "E" had been added. Bobby set him down next to the tub and turned on the cold water, shoving his arm beneath the spray, but it couldn't stop the parade of letter marching across his arm.

Ten minutes after the pain stopped, Sam pulled his arm closer to inspect the damage.

"I don't think he likes you being here." He commented.

"What makes you say that?" Bobby asked, soaking a hand towel in the sink.

Sam held out his arm to show him what the maniac hand branded there.

"C-H-E-A-T-E-R"

*** * * * ***

"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong." Damion hissed, shoving the tiny iron letters back into his box of instruments. "They were NOT supposed to call anyone."

Well, at least now they knew better. If Dean wasn't in the other state he would have had a long talk with him that would have included a LONG apology. He would have to deal with that when the older Winchester returned. For now, he had to find out who this third hunter was and if he was going to ruin Damion's perfect plan.

"No more mistakes, hunters," he growled, pulling an elaborate dagger from the box, "or else you will forfeit the game."

* * *

I hope you didn't think Damion would stop just because he was done with his demonstrations. There is MUCH more to come. (Hey, you guys were the ones who wanted a 25 chapter story, and if you look at my other stories you will see I keep a fast pace right to the end. :) )

Anyway, let me know what you think. (And if I get lots of reviews while I am at work I will try and post at least two chapters before I go to bed tomorrow.)


	10. Never Easy

Okay, I didn't add any more hurt Sam here ... but I did put a little something in for Monkeymuse. :)

* * *

**Chapter 10: Never Easy**

Dean sat in the Impala, watching the target. The building he had been sent to turned out to be a small store that sold everything you need for voodoo from candles to dried animal heads. It's a wonder the animal rights activists weren't picketing the place, then again the fact a bokor was residing their might have something to do with it. Even people who don't believe in the supernatural know better then to cross a sorcerer.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was just about six, the shop would be closing soon. Might as well get a look around beforehand. Dean was halfway across the street when his pocket started to vibrate. Pulling out his phone, his heart jump into his throat when he saw Bobby's, not Sam's, name on the caller id.

"Bobby?" He asked, trying to remain calm until he had the facts. "Is Sam okay?"

"He's fine."

Dean let out a sigh of relief before it registered their had to be a reason why they called.

"What happened?"

"Well … he got burned again."

"Son of a-" Dean seethed, slamming his fist into the nearest telephone pole. "I'm gonna kill that b^s&a#d."

"Yeah, well, there's more."

"What?" Dean asked, reminding himself that Bobby already said Sam was okay.

"He's not happy that I came."

"Did he say something?"

"Sorta … he branded the word 'cheater' into Sam's arm."

Dean griped the phone so tight it was a miracle that it didn't break. He branded him? The f&%^ing b^s&a*d BRANDED him?! He was going to kill this guy. He was going to beat him up, cut him up, and leave him for a nest of vampires … then kill the vampires. Or maybe he could turn him over to a werewolf … no … not a good time in the lunar cycle. A wendigo perhaps. Were there any in the area? He could figure out the details later, right now he had something more important to take care of.

"Let me talk to Sam."

While Bobby handed off the phone, Dean took a calming breath. No reason to make Sam more upset then he probably was already.

"Dean?"

"Hey Sammy, you okay?"

"I'm fine Dean, it's not even as bad as last time."

While he wondered if Sam was just trying to make him feel better, he decided to trust him for now … and kick his a$& if he was lying.

"Good. Just keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn't get infected."

"Yeah, I know Dean." He could almost hear his brother's eyes roll. "How's the hunt for the talisman going?"

"Well, I just got here, so I'll find out soon."

"Just be careful."

"Yeah, I know Sam." Dean smirked.

"Jerk."

"B^%&$."

After saying his goodbyes, Dean turned back to the store. All he needed was one measly talisman and his brother would be safe. How hard could it be?

The gunshot hit the wall less then a foot from Dean's head. Where followers of voodoo suppose to be AGAINST violence? Or was that Buddhism? He would have to ask Sam later, right now he had to focus on getting out alive. Ducking behind a staircase, Dean heard two more shots bury in the wood. Listening carefully, he could hear at least three people closing in on his location, and from the sound of the shots at least two were armed. They yelled at each other in french, voices getting closer. He was running out of time. Seeing a window, Dean got as close as he could, but the last five yards were exposed to the gunman. Without a whole lot of options he made a break for it, but a bullet grazed his leg and caused him to fall four feet from freedom. With the three men were closing in on him, Dean could barely pull himself into a standing position before he was staring down the barrel of a nine millimeter handgun.

"No Andrew!" A voice yelled, making the shooters look away.

Not one to let an opportunity pass, Dean dove for the window, crashing through the glass and landing in a heap on the ally floor. Stumbling back to the car he sped away, stopping only to wrap a bandanna around his leg at the city limits. After that it was a straight shot to Sammy.

*** * * * ***

Damion impatiently tapped the steering wheel while he waited for Dean to return. He should never have let them leave Louisiana in the first place, this was taking far too long.

"Only twenty more minutes, hunter." He commented checking his watch.

Of course, it was no sweat off his back if he permanently crippled the younger Winchester, but then he would have to come up with a new threat to hold over them.

"Finally!" He grumbled, as the sleek black car tore into the parking lot and stopped in front of the Winchesters' room.

As eager as he was to move on to step three, Damion decided to give Dean a chance to see his latest handiwork before he stopped by. Gathering together anything he might need, Damion made sure to put a couple of extra pins in his pocket. The burn was not enough, the hunters still needed to be punished for what they did … and he would see Dean Winchester beg before the dawn.

* * *

So Damion is mad now ... but I have a feeling Dean will top that in the next chapter. What do you think?

As always, reviews and suggestions are always welcome and I will try to get the next part up before I go to bed.

BTW, sorry for the delay in posting. I was sitting here trying to find info on episodes online ... completely forgetting I had four seasons on dvd less then five feet away. ;)


	11. New Task

Wow ... I finished this one fast ... I wonder if I should get started on the next one before I go to bed ...

In any case, here ya go ...

* * *

**Chapter 11: New Task**

Sam looked up when the door opened, but his relief at seeing his brother alive was short lived when he saw the bloody cloth tied around his leg.

"Dean, you're hurt!"

"Just a scratch. Let me see your arm."

"Doesn't look like a scratch to me." Sam said, stubbornly holding the gauze over his new burn.

"I swear it just grazed me, now come on."

Dean reached for his arm again, but Sam pulled away.

"You got shot?!"

"Grazed." Dean corrected. "Those voodoo guys may take their right to bear arms seriously, but they have terrible aim."

Succeeding in get a hold of Sam, Dean carefully pulled back the bandage, his expression darkening when he caught sight of the angry red letters.

"Dean?"

They both looked up to see Bobby standing by with the first aide kit. Just as Dean sat down on the other bed, there was a knock at the door. On his feet in seconds, Dean pulled out his gun and limped over to the door while Bobby moved to shield Sam. Leaning back to see around his friend, Sam saw the usually happy psycho storm into the room.

"Stupid stunt, Winchester." He hissed. "I never said you had life lines in this game."

"Yeah, well you never said we didn't" Dean countered with just as much venom.

"T-that's … my decision." The man sputtered. "I control what happens here, not you!"

"Okay game-master, here's your f&%^ing talisman." Dean threw the small object so it bounced off the guy's chest. "Now fix my brother."

Not taking his eyes off of Dean, or his hand far from his pocket, he reached down and picked up the talisman from the floor. Giving it a brief glance, he dropped it into his shirt pocket as his grin returned.

"Despite your disregard of the rules and your complete lack of respect, you did good."

He pulled the doll out of his pocket and slowly pulled the pin out. After the initial pain, Sam felt fine.

"Sammy?" Dean shot him a questioning look.

Sam started to carefully climb out of bed.

"This is taking too long." The man sighed. "Let me test it."

Sam barely had a chance to look up before he saw the sadistic a&$hole shove a smaller pin into the doll's foot. Screaming, he clutched at the newest injury while his tormentor started to sick more and more needles into the doll's feet and legs.

"Stop it!" Dean yelled. "You son of a b^$&*, leave him alone!"

"You brought this on him, Dean." He had to shout to be heard above Sam's cries of pain. "You brought in a stranger and now you must pay for it."

"What do you want? Another apology? Because I'm sorry, okay? Now stop!"

"Not good enough Dean." His grin widened. "Get on your knees."

When he hesitated, the b^s#a&d shoved another pin into the doll causing Sam to scream, twisting against the increasing agony.

"Alright!" Dean lowered down, wincing when his injured leg hit the floor. "I'm sorry, now leave him alone."

"You'll have to do better then that." He slowly pushed a pin through the bottom of the doll's foot.

"I'm sorry!" Dean shouted. "It won't happen again, now please stop!"

"That's more like it." The Cheshire smile returned as he removed the pins one by one, dropping them into his pocket. "But … just so I know you won't break any more rules …"

Sam watched him put away the final pin, just to take out the large one.

"No-" He was cut off as the stabbing pain shot through his back.

"You son of a b^$*&!" Dean growled. "You said you were going to let him walk again."

"I gave him the chance, it's not my fault he was too slow to enjoy it … oh wait," his grin widened, "I guess it is."

"You f&%^ing b#s%a$d-"

"I'd watch your language from now on, Dean." The man warned with a smile. "Unless you would rather I break baby brother's arm."

Visibly trying to calm himself, Dean sent the guy a look of pure rage.

"We did what you wanted," Dean gritted out through clenched teeth, "we got you the d- talisman. What else do you want from us?"

Looking very much like a red haired Joker, the an reached into his pocket and handed Dean another slip of paper.

"What the h-" Dean scowled at the image. "What is this?"

"It's a very special box." The psycho explained calmly. "Get it for me."

"There is no address." Dean commented, flipping the paper over.

"Oh you won't need one. It belongs to Ezekiel."

Sam stared at the man, fear and horror filling him.

"You can't send him back there!" He argued.

When the guy looked his way, Sam knew he had crossed some sort of line, but just as the mad man reached for his pocket, Dean stepped in the way.

"I'll do it."

"Dean-"

"Shut up Sam."

"Excellent." He man said happily. "Oh, but here are the rules … you wanted to bring in someone else, so he has to help … all THREE of you will get me the box."

"No way." Dean stated firmly. "Sam's in no shape to-"

A scream tore from Sam's throat as he felt invisible fingers squeezing his already cracked ribs.

"I said all three of you. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand!" Dean shouted back, "Now let him go!"

Sam gasped as the pressure subsided and he collapsed against the pillows.

"You have two days, don't screw up."

And with that he was gone.

*** * * * ***

"The nerve of those hunters, arguing with ME."Damion muttered, climbing into his car. "Don't they realize I hold their lives in my hands?"

He cheered himself up with the memory of the mighty hunter, on his knees begging for his brother. They would get him the box, of that he was sure. But that was only stage three. The most critical part was still to come.

"Then," he whispered, looking at his new talisman, "all will be mine."

* * *

I'm pretty sure that the most evil I have ever been ... unless you have read "Divided, Not Conquered". (I got quite evil in that one.)

So, what do you say, should I start work on the next one, or wait until I get off work in 18 hours? (And feedback is always appreciated.)


	12. Final Instructions

FINALLY! This site is more evil then I am! I only torment the boys and put them in life threatening danger, but it kept you from reading my updates ALL NIGHT LONG! Now, after 13 hours and 12+ tries, FF has let me post the new chapter. Yay!

On a sad note, I lost my job yesterday. (I'm gonna miss all those old people. *tear*) On the bright side, I should be posting more frequently for a while. (Assuming the site doesn't lock me out again.)

So, sorry for the delay, it's wasn't me I swear, and enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 12: Final Instructions**

As soon as he slammed the door, Dean let out all his pent up emotion.

"That d*^ son of a b&^%*!" He seethed. "I'm gonna rip his f*%#ing heart out! If he wanted the d#$* box he sure as h^&% could have said something before, then we wouldn't have to deal with this s$^% again. I swear, when this is over I'm gonna kill that sadistic a$^hole."

Turning away from the door, his anger melted away at the sight of his brother. Limp on the bed once again, Sam was laying on his back with his fists pressed against his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"How are we going to do this Dean?" He mumbled. "I can't walk, you've been shot …"

"Hey," He knelt down beside him, "we've been through worse."

"Name five times."

Dean thought about it for a second.

"Okay, nothing comes to mind," He admitted, "but there's always a first time for everything."

Sam pulled his hands away from his face and Dean's heart ached at the broken look in his brother's eyes. This psycho b^%&$ was gonna pay.

"You could die Dean."

"Sam, I could die crossing the street, but I am not going to let this b$s^a#d keep hurting you like this. I'm going to stop him, and if that means playing his sick little game for a while then fine."

Looking down, Sam fingered the hem of his shirt.

"So, what are we going to do? I'm useless-"

"No your not." Dean said, a bit sharper then he intended. "We'll just … we'll figure something out, alright?"

Sam nodded sadly as Dean started to move him back to his old position on the bed. Suddenly, he grabbed Dean's arm, eyes wide.

"Dean," his said frantically, "he's gonna burn my back!"

Muttering a few choice words, Dean picked up his brother and pulled him into the bathroom just as the pain started. Setting him in the tub, Bobby turned the shower on while Dean cut his shirt off reveling a red "D" over Sam's left shoulder followed soon by an "O". Each new letter brought a fresh wave of pain, and Sam bit down on his ruined t-shirt to try and keep from screaming. Through it all, Dean stayed by Sam's side, holding his hand just to keep a connection, while he watched a message be branded into his brother's back. His anger grew with every word that appeared under the spray of the water, destroying whatever shred of hope the sadistic piece of s^%&$ had of surviving this ordeal.

"DONT HIDE SAM

WORK TOGETHER

DONT FAIL ME

FOLLOW RULES

AND REMEMBER

IM IN CHARGE"

Over half an hour later, Dean draped a wet towel over the fresh burns while Bobby went out to hit up the local clinics and find anything they might need.

"What's it … say?" Sam panted, trying to look over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Sammy." Dean responded, gently pushing his head back.

"Dean."

The tone in that single word spoke volumes, roughly translating to 'If you don't answer me, I will find out myself, even if I have to drag myself over to a mirror'.

"It's a list of rules." He stated. "Here."

Dean handed him some pain killers and a glass of water, closing the subject and turning away to find the first aide kit. Positioning himself on the bed behind Sam, he carefully removed the towel, unfolding a large piece of gauze to cover the latest evidence of this b&s$a#d's twisted mind. Sixty-five d^$% letters burned into his skin, just to prove a f&*^ing point. With one last look at their instructions, Dean tapped the gauze in place, vowing to make this guy pay for ever daring to hurt his brother.

*** * * * ***

Damion dropped the cooled letters, one by one, back into his box.

"That should do the trick." He grinned. "Can't say I didn't give you the rules NOW."

Maybe it was a bit much to force Sam into the game, but Dean had to learn not to defy him. The best way for the older Winchester to remember a lesson, is when the younger pays for it. Besides, the Winchester's were among the greatest hunters around, surely they could retrieve a little box … especially if Sam's life was on the line. They would find a way to meet his challenge.

Pulling out the talisman, Damion admired it's polished surface, knowing in a few short days his plan would be complete.

"Those foolish hunters still have no idea what they are giving me." He chuckled, slipping the small piece of copper back into his pocket.

Leaning back in his seat, he let his gaze wondered to the room where the brothers were staying. Soon nothing would be able to standing his way.

* * *

Dun dun dun! It seems Damion has more on his mind then petty theft ... but more on that later. :)

Hope you enjoyed it. I'll get the next one up as soon as I can. (Didn't write must last night because I was too busy mourning the loss of my job.)

So, let me know what you think and I'll get to work on the next one.


	13. Heading Out

Sorry this chapter took so long. (I had a bit o trouble on the opening.)

Anyway, here ya go ...

* * *

**Chapter 13: Heading Out**

"Oh, come on Bobby." Sam groaned, eying the metal chair his friend was pushing his way.

Locking the breaks, Bobby pulled back the blanket, uncovering Sam's legs.

"Dean shouldn't even be supporting HIS weight on that leg," Bobby stated, cut off any farther protests. "And there is no way in h^%& I'M gonna be hauling your a$% around Louisiana."

Sam scowled at his brothers snickering while Bobby helped him maneuver into the chair and spread a blanket over his lap.

"You comfortable there, grandma?"

"Bite me." Sam ripped the blanket off, throwing it forcefully on the bed.

With a stern look, Bobby grabbed it and spread it back across his lap.

"You are barefoot and wearing pajamas. Take the d*%^ thing before you freeze … and If you're good, we'll even get you some knitting to do."

Sam glared up at the older hunter, ignoring Dean's not-so-subtle laughter.

"Just wait until YOU'RE in one of these things." He shot back.

"Boy," Bobby shook his head, "the day I'm in a wheel chair is the day I stab myself."

Gripping the wheels, Sam propelled himself towards the door, gritting his teeth against the pain. After two pushes he was barely halfway there, but already having trouble breathing. Stopping to catch his breath and give his aching ribs a break, he was startled when the wheel chair started to move again.

"Come on Speed Racer," Dean said from above him, "we've got a schedule to keep."

He smiled despite himself. His big brother might be a huge pain in the a$* sometimes, but he always had his back. Sam didn't want to admit how much those few feet had taken out of him, luckily he didn't have too. One thing about being a Winchester was never having to share your feelings … because the other Winchesters could already tell when you were in pain and were ready to step in to help, whether you ask for it or not.

"Hey Sammy," Dean gave him a cocking grin as he helped him into the backseat, "think your new wheels will give you a sympathy angle with the local girls?"

Sam just stared at him. Only Dean would be thinking of hooking up at a time like this.

"Do you EVER think with your upstairs brain?"

"Only when I have to."

"If you two are done," Bobby cut in, dragging out the last of their bags, "do you think we could get going?"

Folding up the wheelchair, Dean headed for the trunk, coming back with a couple of pillows and an extra blanket.

"Don't get too used to this." He said, tucking the pillows in place and tossing the blanket in Sam's reach. "You'll be up and around be fore you know it."

Sam tried to smile, but it was hard with the doubt clouding his mind. The man had control over Dean as long as Sam was vulnerable, and a blind man could see Dean was mad as h^#$ about it. He would be a fool to give it up. The only way they were going to get out of this is if one of them died … and the ways things were going it looked like that would be Dean.

"Sammy?"

Glancing up into a pair of concerned green eyes, Sam tried once again to smile, but knew it too had failed.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy." Dean gave the back of his neck a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

Sam nodded and Dean gently closed the car door. He had faith in his brother, after all, Dean Winchester didn't break promises … at least, not promises to him

*** * * * ***

Damion smiled broadly as e watched the sleek black car pull away. Waiting until they were out of sight, he started up his own car. Checking the map next to him he sighed, knowing that he was going to have to take an alternate rout if he didn't want the Winchesters to see him, but it would add three more hours to his trip.

"Hmm," he murmured, "I could always add a couple hours to THEIR trip to make us even."

At the first red light he came to, Damion pulled out his handy little box, looking for something he could use to slow the hunters down.

"Pins? … too boring. Lighter? … then I would have to stop driving."

Sifting through the box one handed as he drove, he came upon a leather strap. Glancing back at the pins and idea formed in his mind. Smiling at his stroke of genius, Damion kept his eyes peeled for the one place he needed to turn his vision into reality.

It took almost fifteen minutes, but he finally found one. After getting what he needed, Damion quickly went to work on his latest creation before wrapping it around the voodoo doll and setting it on the dash board.

"Soon, Sam," He smiled at the open road, keeping an eye on his little device, "you will get to experience a little piece of history."

* * *

HOLY CRAP! I made it through an entire chapter without hurting anyone ... badly. This hasn't happened since chapter 1! Oh well, I'll make up for it in the next chapter with Damion's old fasioned "toy". *evil grin*

Well let me know what you think. (My chapters really do go up faster when I get reviews, they remind me people are wanting me to keep writing. :) )

P.S. Thanks for the advice MysteryMadchen, I'll see if one of my friends will drive me over there. I haven't seen Haystack Rock in ages.


	14. Travel Pains

Hello all you Hurt!Sam fans out there. I hope you like this chapter. :)

Before I get to that, I wanted to recommend a few other Hurt/Limp!Sam and/or Protective!Dean stories that I just LOVE. (I have been rereading some of the stories I like and felt like sharing.)

**NOTE: **Not only are these NOT in any particular order, this is not even a complete list, but I sadly had to limit myself or we would never get around to my chapter.

**A Hiccup in Time _by sammygirl1963_**

_Not as much a Hurt!Sam fic as a … Baby!Sam fic. Sam physically looses 20 years, while keeping his adult mind intact, leaving John and Dean to try and change him back while they keep him safe from both natural and supernatural dangers. HALARIOUS! (Especially when Sam wants a beer. LOL!)_

**Last Plane Out _by Muffy Morrigan_**

_When Sam is in a car accident Dean will do whatever it takes to be there for him … even fly! (First and last chapters are my FAVORITE. :) )_

**The Convention _by Kyriebess_**

_Teenage Sam meets some hunters … and finds out why John doesn't let them socialize with others in their line of work. (One of the most original monster I have seen yet.)_

**Fix You _by Wallflowergirl_**

_Sam is trapped in a ditch, in the snow, with a broken cell phone. Need I say more?_

**Running On Empty _by supernaturaldh_**

_Some hunters want revenge against the Winchesters, so they kidnap Sam and bury him alive. (Not a smart plan unless you have a death wish.)_

I hope you are able to read/enjoy those stories as much as I do. Now on to MY story ..._  
_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Travel Pains**

Sam shifted against his pillows, watching the scenery go by … not that there was much to see on a Texas highway. Since Bobby was driving, Dean wasn't able to have his normal music blaring. Though usually relaxing, the silence was giving Sam more time to think about their current mission. Somehow, all three of them, had to infiltrate a bokor's home and steal from the same people who already tried to kill Dean. This whole trip was turning into a nightmare. These people had seen Dean … h&%^ they SHOT Dean. How was he going to get past them a second time, especially with a bad leg?

"Mind sharing with the class, Sam?"

He looked up to see Dean half turned around in his seat, much like he used to do when they were kids.

"What?"

"The door handle isn't that interesting." He smirked. "Come on, I know you have something going on in that freaky head of yours."

"I just … I'm trying to figure out how we can get through this alive."

"Easy," Dean shrugged, "get the box and gank the psycho. Problem solved.

"Getting that box won't be easy." Sam pointed out glumly. "And you know if we try to kill him he will just kill me first."

"That's not gonna happen." Dean stated firmly. "You're gonna be fine."

Sam nodded, but was more worried about Dean then himself. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his brother because of him.

"Sam?"

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You got shot."

"Sam," Dean rubbed a weary hand over his face, "you don't have to worry about me."

Scoffing at the double standard, Sam turned to look back out the window. How could he NOT worry. Dean was his brother, he meant everything to him. And if this psychotic b#s^a$d got him killed then he better be quick with that doll because if he wasn't Sam would be the one snapping his neck.

This thoughts were interrupted by a twinge in his side. S&^%, not now. He looked over at Dean, wondering if it would do any good to say something when he felt another twinge in his shoulder. What the h^%&? But the time the third twinge had shown up in his back the first two were gradually increasing in pain.

"Sammy?"

"It's pins … I think" Sam grunted, wincing as another started near the first.

"D^%& it." Dean growled. "Bobby stop the car."

"No." Sam gasped, as another pain started in his chest. "There's no point … it won't stop until … gah … he takes the pins out."

"You sure?"

"Yeah … keep driving."

Gritting his teeth as the pain assaulted his already battered body, Sam attempted to just ride out latest attack, but within and hour a dozen sharp pains were slowly increasing in intensity.  
"Bobby stop the car." He heard Dean order.

With his jaw locked around a portion of the blanket, Sam silently shook his head, but this time his wishes were ignored. As soon as the Impala was stopped, Sam heard a car door open and close a second before the pillows behind his head moved.

"Hold on Sam," Dean's voice was a soothing whisper, "you're gonna be fine."

His brother slid into the spot where the pillows used to be, tossing them over into the front seat, and allowed Sam to lean against him.

"Just breath through it," he continued, carding his fingers through Sam's hair, "it's almost over."

Bobby headed back onto the road, while Dean continued to comfort Sam as the pain just kept growing. Screaming against the blanket as the invisible points bored their way deeper into his body, Sam tried to focus on Dean's voice, taking comfort in his touch. Finally the pain became too much as he slipped into oblivion.

*** * * * ***

Damion drove down the highway, ever so often glancing at his little invention and wondering how the youngest hunter was fairing. Realizing that his toy would soon start to restricted his victims airways, he pulled off the road, removing the device from the doll.

"It had to have been working for at least a few hours now." Damion said to himself, tossing it into the box with the other items of torture. "Probably did the trick."

Even so, he decided to increase his speed. He didn't care if they got their before him, but he didn't want them to have too much of a lead.

"Need to make sure you are following the rules." Damion muttered to himself flipping on the radio.

In a few more hours he would be in Pineville and one step closer to his goal. As long as the hunters did as they were told, he soon would become invincible.

* * *

As promised, more hurt for Sam. Next we get to finish the road trip with Dean. :)

Let me know how I am doing and I'll get started on the next one. :)


	15. History Lesson

Okay, so this chapter ran away from me a bit and ended up ~300 words longer then most. I hope you don't mind. :)

* * *

**Chapter 15: History Lesson**

Dean cradled his brother, thankful that the pain lines had finally diminished. He was getting so sick of this whole situation. The next time that son of a b^%&$ so much as thought about sticking him, he was going to shove every pin in the b^s%a#d's collection down his f&%*ing throat.

"How's he doing?"Bobby called from the front.

"He'll be fine."

At least he would be as soon as the sadistic a^$hole was dead.

Over the next couple hours, Dean held his brother, waiting for him to wake up again but almost wishing he wouldn't. That maniac couldn't hurt him when he was like this. Before he knew it, they were pulling up to a hotel in Pineville. Between him and Bobby, they managed to get Sam's limp form into the wheel chair and transfer him into the room and over to the bed farthest from the door.

"I'm gonna get some gas and food." Bobby said, dropping their bags at the door.

Dean nodded, focusing on changing Sam's bandages. There was no way he was going anywhere, not until he was 100% sure that his brother was okay. After he checked the last of the burns, he gently leaned Sam back against the pillows and covered him up, just as Bobby returned with lunch.

"Any change?"

"Not yet." Dean sighed.

"Well, it hasn't been that long," Bobby assured him, pulling a couple of plastic wrapped subs out of a brown paper bag. "Just give him some time."

Dean nodded, ignored the food, and distracted himself by sharpening a knife.

"You need to eat."

"Not hungry."

"Dean-"

"I'm NOT hungry."

Rubbing a weary hand across his eyes, Dean started to apologize, but was cut off by a small whimper from the bed.

"Sammy?"

He set the knife and sharpener aside, leaning over his injured sibling.

"Come on Sammy, open your eyes." He coaxed. "That's it."

Dean smiled when the blue green orbs peered up at him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam, I'm right here."

"Personal space, dude." Sam weakly pushed him back with one arm and settled back against the pillows.

Yup, Sam was gonna be just fine.

After lunch, Sam fell back asleep while Dean and Bobby discussed how they were oing to get the box. They were just going over what Dean remembered of the floor-plan, when they heard a knock on the door. Sharing a look with Bobby, Dean retrieved his gun and headed to the door. The thought of shooting the piece of s&%^ through the door was tempting, but he couldn't risk the guy living long enough to snap the doll in half. So he just waited until Bobby was in front of Sam before opening the door.

"Good evening, hunters." He smiled. "Did your trip go well?"

"F^$% you."

"I'll ignore the language this time and just assume that means no."

Dean just continued to glare, wishing he could just give into impulse and break the a&$hole's face. The b#s^a&d tried to look around him to see the bed, so Dean took a step back, effectively blocked any view he might have had of Sam.

"Standing there won't protect him."

Dean just shrugged and stayed where he was. The son of a b&%*^ obviously enjoyed seeing Sam in pain, and asleep or not, he refused to let his brother be used for his sick amusement. He watched as the frustration grew in the man's eyes at being deprived of his entertainment … oh there was so much more he wished he could deprive him of, such as oxygen or his head.

"So did you enjoy my new toy?" He asked, suddenly grinning again.

Dean's eyes narrowed when the man pulled something out of his pocket and proudly held it up. It was a piece of leather with a dozen pins stuck in it.

"I was inspired by the Native Americans." He continued, his smile getting bigger. "You see, back in the day they used to sew arrow heads into fresh buffalo skins and wrap their enemies in them before laying them out in the sun. As the skin dried it would shrink and … well you can figure out the rest for yourself."

Dean fought to keep his temper in check when he realized exactly what his brother must have felt in the car.

"You sick piece of-"

A sharp cry of pain cut him off and he saw Sam awake and cradling his left wrist, tears of pain forming in his eyes.

"Watch it Dean." He warned, "I don't normally give second chances."

His smile returned and he leaned to the side, obviously trying to see the bed.

"Oh Sam?" The dick called sweetly. "How did you like my new toy?"

"Go … to … h- Gah!"

He twisted in pain, pulling his wrist to his chest.

"Not you too." He said with a tsking sound. "I expected better from you Sammy."

"My … name's … Sam." He ground out.

"Well then, SAM, you better answer my questions it you don't want me to snap that wrist."

"What do you want?" Dean cut I, trying to get the focus off his brother.

"You had your chance Dean, now I want to talk to Sam." His eyes narrowed. "Now move and keep quiet."

Another strangled scream was enough incentive for the hunters to do as he asked, stepping to the side to give the b%s&a*d an unobstructed view of Sam.

*** * * * ***

Damion's grin widened as the hunters followed his orders. This was almost too easy. Lessening his grip on the dolls wrist, he decided to satisfy his curiosity.

"So, Sammy," he started, enjoying the reaction the nickname got from the hunters, "oh a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the pain level from my newest device?"

The young hunter just stared at him, but his brother was not as quiet about it.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" He vented. "You want to conduct a servery of how he was TORTURED?!"

Giving the doll's wrist a good yank, he gave Dean a look, reminding him that he was not part of this conversation.

"So, what was it."

"Bite me." Sam growled.

"That high then." Damion said happily. "So, how long did it hold you up?"

"About a minute and a half."

His smile dropped. That can't be right.

"You're lying to me." He hissed, squeezing and twisted the doll's wrist while the hunter screamed in pain.

"No he's not!" Dean yelled. "We pulled over once, that was it."

"What time did you get here?" Damion demanded, not letting up on the doll just yet.

"About three hours ago." Dean answered. "Now let him go!"

"I don't believe you."

He squeezed tighter, just short of snapping the bone.

"Check the hotel logs." The stranger interjected.

Releasing the doll, Damion stormed from the room and straight to the office. The blaring tv had the clerk distracted, so he helped himself to the log book.

"No." He hissed.

The hunters weren't lying. He would just have to do better next time … and hope that nothing happened in the few hours they had been here without him. If they were to … no that wouldn't happen. He would make sure of that, just as soon as he had the box.

* * *

Okay, so my laptop has been having issues connecting to the internet, but never fear I should have the next chapter up by tomorrow night.

In the meantime, reviews are welcome. :)

SIDE NOTE: A special thanks to my editor for giving me the idea for the Native American torture device.


	16. Making Plans

Okay, here's the next part. Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 16: Making Plans**

Sam checked his wrist, thankful to find no broken bones.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked, hovering nearby.

"It's just sprained."

Biting his lip while his brother gently probed the injury, Sam watched his brother's face change from concern to relief to angry.

"I'm gonna rip that b^s&a$d's lungs out."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed, "get in line."

Gratefully excepting an icepack Sam winced when the cold touched his skin. He was really getting sick of getting used. Of watching this a$%hole manipulating Dean … taunting him … pushing him. If they couldn't stop him soon he was going to get Dean killed.

"So," Sam looked up, "do we have a plan on how to get the box?"

"Uh … yeah." Dean grab some papers off the table and spread them out on the bed. "This is the layout of the store. You and Bobby will come in through the front and distract them while I sneak in the back and grab the box."

"How are you getting in?"

"Same way I got out." Dean pointed to a spot on the sketch. "There's a broken window in the back."

"Don't you think that's a little exposed."Sam asked, studying the area.

"I'll be fine."

Dean absentmindedly rubbed his bad leg and Sam got a pretty good idea of how he got hurt.

"No," Sam shook his head, "find another way in."

"Sam, there IS no other way in." Dean argued.

"How did you get in last time?" Bobby wondered.

"Front door. Obviously, that's not an option this time."

"There has to be a better way."

"Believe me Sam, I WISH we could do this another way." Dean stated. "You think I like the idea of you going into a bokor's place to distract the people who shot me?

He forget to mention that if they failed, he could die, Sam thought glumly. His eyes dropped to the ice pack, a reminder of just how vulnerable he was … how useless-

"Sam?"

He could hear the concern in his brother's voice, but kept his gaze on his swollen writs.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, pulling the wheel chair over.

Putting at little weight on his wrist as possible, Sam pulled himself into the chair.

"Here." Dean said, gently wrapping the newest injury in an ace bandage.

Sam thought about trying to talk him out of this plan, finding another way to get the box, but he knew it was useless. It was easier to pull a camel through the eye of a needle then to change a Winchester's mind.

"You okay, Sam?" Bobby asked, opening the car door.

He nodded, watching the spot where Dean had disappeared only a moment before.

"He's gonna be fine." Bobby assured him.

Bobby unfolded the wheelchair, but Sam refused his help getting in it. After all, there was still a chance of this being permanent and, if so, he needed to get used to it. Bracing himself between the car and the wheelchair, he tried to hoist himself up, but one of the chair's breaks slipped causing it to roll out of his reach. Sam found himself tumbling out of the car and instinctively put out his hands to brace his fall. Burning pain shot across his palms as they skidded across the cement and Sam had to bite back a scream as every injury he had received over the past few days made it's presence known on impact with the cold sidewalk.

"Sam!" Bobby shouted, pulling him up to lean against the car. "Are you okay?"

"D^%$ it." He moaned, fighting back frustrated tears.

"Come on." Bobby coaxed, gently helping him into the, now solid, chair. "It's going to be okay."

"Is it?" Sam vented. "What happens if we can't fix this, Bobby? What if I am stuck in this chair for the rest of my life?"

"We won't let that happen."

New tears welled in his eyes as he remembered his earlier fears for Dean. The maniac was not going to stop with the box. He was going to keep using Sam to put his brother into harms way until he got killed … and Sam was helpless to stop him.

"I can't loose him" He whispered.

"Loose who? Dean?" Bobby gave him a puzzled look. "Why the h%&$ would you loose Dean?"

"He's not gonna stop." Sam murmured. "He is going to keep manipulating us until one of us is dead."

"You listen to me, boy." Bobby squatted down to look him in the eye, "No one is going to get you or Dean killed, not as long as I'm around. You two idjits are all I got left and I'll be d*#%ed if I let some psychotic b^s#a%d take either of you down. Got it?"

He waited until Sam nodded before standing up.

"Good, now lets go help your brother."

*** * * * ***

"About time you start listening." Damion smirked.

He watched the old man push Sam across the street and into the store. He looked down at the doll, focusing his energy of keeping the pin effective. He waited until he had crossed the threshold before letting up, gauging his power level against the shop's protective wards, smiling when the pin held.

"See, Ezekiel, I AM strong."

He had been worried when he realized they were going to bring Sam to the store, the last thing he needed was another bokor blocking his magic. But he was pleased to see he was stronger then Ezekiel's protections.

"Or at least," he pulled the copper charm from his pocket, "I am now."

And after he had the box everything would be his.

* * *

Okay so the next part is almost done. It should be ready to post ... about the time I get my first review. ;)

Seriously though, I would LOVE to know what you guys think so far.


	17. The Box

Thanks to Leahelisabeth and MysteryMadchen for the quick post. (Your reviews made it happen :) )

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Box**

Dean flipped out a pocket knife, silently cutting through the plastic that had replaced the window. Climbing inside, he looked around, grateful the the area was empty. Now all he had to do was find the box and get out without getting shot, how hard could it be? Scratch that, he was going to assume it would be hard … very hard. Making his way past the stairway, noticing the bullet holes uncomfortably close to where he was hiding, Dean peeked into the store and saw Sam and Bobby talking to the two men who shot at him the night before. Reminding himself that the gunman thought they were customers, Dean made his way up the stairs to the area where he had found the talisman.

Checking to make sure the room was empty, Dean walked carefully across the wood floor looking at the objects scattered across a dozen dusty shelves.

"If I were a box where would I hide?" He murmured, poking around a bookshelf.

Not finding anything in the main room, Dean moved on to the other rooms, finally finding it hidden in the back of a closet in the bedroom.

"Hello." He smiled, double checking that all the markings matched the drawing.

Once he was sure it was the right box, Dean grabbed it and headed towards the stairs … but the sound of voices sent him right back into the room. Leaning against the door, Dean heard heavy foot steps getting closer as two men had a conversation in french. Looking for an escape Dean opened up the window. For some reason the second floor looked much higher from here, but as the voices neared the door, he didn't have much choice. Tucking the box into his coat and gripping the window frame, Dean lowered himself down.

"Look mommy! It's a monkey man!"

Dean snapped his head up to see he was hanging right outside on of the side windows of the shop, with a small boy pointing at him while tugging on his mother's skirt.

"Sweetie, mommy's busy." The distracted woman replied, thankfully not looking his way.

But Sam did. His eyes grew wide with the obvious question of 'what the h^%& are you doing?'

"But Mommy!" The little boy whined, pulling harder on his mom's skirt. "There's a monkey man in the window."

Dean sent Sam a look indicating the boy. He did not need Dennis the Menace giving away his position.

"Jeffery there is no monkey man." The woman said with an exasperated sigh.

"Is too." Jeffery half shouted. "He's right there and he has big ears."

What?! Dean was tempted to correct him when Sam shot him a stern look, right before he distracted the kid by playing with a … voodoo doll? That's just wrong.

Dropping to the ground, Dean bit back a whole line of choice words when his injured leg leg gave under his weight. Pulling himself up, he limped back to the car as fast as he could. He didn't have to wait long before Bobby and Sam joined him.

"So," he started as Bobby helped Sam into the backseat, "after all we've been through, do you really think it's a good idea to teach the kid to play with a voodoo doll?"

"Shut up Monkey Man." Sam shot back. "It was the closest thing to me. And at least I know how to use a door."

Dean had just opened his mouth to respond when Bobby cut him off.

"Can we just go?"

*** * * * ***

"Very good, hunters."

Damion started up his car, heading back toward the hotel. He knew they would get the box, never doubted it for a second. His plan was almost done, just one final step and he would be unstoppable.

"But what to do with the Winchesters." He wondered as he neared his destination.

He was no fool. He knew the second he lost control over Sam he would feel the wrath of Dean. He had heard stories of those who had cross them in the past and not many were still breathing. No, he was going to have to stay in control, but for now he would focus on the final stage. Until it was complete there was still a chance …

"No, they would never try that." He smiled to himself, picking the doll up off the seat. "Not while I hold Sam's life in my hands."

* * *

COMING SOON: Damion's goal

I'll get the next part up as soon as I can, but I am also editing/posting chapters for 2 other stories tonight. ("Firstborn" and "Roses Are Red") So it might have to wait until tomorrow.


	18. Final Task

I feeling prideful of my heritage right now, so I would like to dedicate this chapter to all my readers in Finland, England, and the Netherlands. (I may be an American, but my roots go across the ocean.) Yay Europe! Yay Scandinavia! **SISU! SISU! SISU! **(This is what happens when I write my author's notes after midnight on a sugar high. Yay brownies. :) )

Anyway, I hope this makes up for the lack of hurting going on in the last chapter.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 18: Final Task**

Reaching the hotel, Sam tried to pull himself into the waiting wheel chair, wincing when he put weight on his raw palms.

"What happened to your hands?" Dean questioned.

"Nothing." He replied, gritting his teeth through the pain. "They just got a little scrapped that's all."

"When?" Dean took one of Sam's hands to inspect the damage.

"When he fell out of the car." A sickeningly cheerful voice chimed in.

Sam looked over to see the maniac, with his joker sized grin, heading there way.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until we get inside the room before showing your ugly face?" Dean spat, stepping in front of Sam.

Judging by the way his brother tensed, Sam guessed the psycho had reached fr his pocket again and braced himself for whatever the b^s$a*d had in store. Thankfully nothing came.

"Right you are, Dean." He said politely. "After you."

Dean opened the door and blocked his view while Bobby pushed Sam into the room. Once inside, Dean kept himself between Sam and his tormentor. He only wish he would at least let him know what was going on; staring at his brother's back was starting to get annoying.

"Give me the box."

Sam leaned to his left, peering between Dean and Bobby. There was something in the man's voice, he was more excited now then he had ever been and suddenly Sam had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Dean don't-"

He was cut off as an invisible force wrapped around his throat, his hands clawing at nothing as he fought for air.

"Sammy?" Dean called.

He could only shake his head, silently pleading for him not to give in. Something was very wrong here. They couldn't let him have the box.

"Give me the box, Dean."

His tone held a hard edge, and Sam knew he would snap his neck if he didn't get what he wanted.

"Alright!" Dean pulled the box out of his coat. "Just take it easy."

Sam could only watch helplessly as his brother turned over the wooden object, instantly able to breath as soon the the box changed hands.

"You okay, Sam?" Bobby asked.

He nodded, his eyes locked on the man who's face was lit up like a kid at Christmas. The man closed his eyes, muttering something over the box before grinning up at Dean.

"Thank you hunter. Now for your last job."

"I'm not stealing anything else from that bokor until you fix my brother." Dean stated firmly.

"Oh no, Dean." His smile widened. "I don't want you to rob Ezekiel … I want you to kill him."

Sam stared at him in shock. Kill him? As far as they could tell Ezekiel hadn't hurt anyone, and Sam would not allow an innocent man to die because of him.

"Dean no." He shook his head. "You can't-GAH!"

Sam was thrown from his chair, hitting the floor hard, a weight crushing him into the carpet.

"Sam!" Dean shouted.

"Stay where you are, Dean." The man ordered. "Sammy needs to learn a lesson about staying quiet."

Flung onto his back, Sam bit his lip when the impact jarred his ribs. The pressure on his chest started to increase just enough for him to cry out in pain without cutting off his air supply.

"You son of a b&%^*," Dean growled, "leave him alone!"

"I suppose you are wondering how I am able to do this." The man said, as if not hearing Dean.

Sam felt himself become airborne, seconds before he slammed into the ceiling and dropped back to the floor.

"It's very simple, you see the box increased my power level." He continued gleefully.

The sadistic a&$hole threw Sam back into the wheelchair, rolling it back several feet until it slammed into the table, almost knocking him back to the carpet.

"And I owe it all to you, Dean." His smile grew to full size. "Thanks for the help."

Sam could see guilt mixing with the rage in Dean's eyes and his hatred for the b%s$a#d grew. It was one thing to torture him, but he crossed a line when he put responsibility on his brother's shoulders. This guy was going to pay, big time!

"So, now you have a choice, hunter." He fingered the doll lightly. "Who will live and who will die?"

*** * * * ***

Damion climbed back into the car, admiring his new box. His goal was so close he could taste it.

"Just twelve more hours." He murmured, placing the box securely beneath his seat.

He wondered if he should have given them a shorter time limit, but with the amount of people he kept around him even a great hunter like Dean Winchester would need time to plan. Then again, it wasn't like he gave him a lot of detail instructions. He just had to kill the man and bring back the body. Anyone could do that, or at least any hunter; but that brother of his might prove to be a problem after all. He was actually more at piece about being permanently crippled then killing a sorcerer, just because Ezekiel has never hurt anyone.

"Typical." Damion sighed, shaking his head. "Of all the hunters out there I have to find the ones with morals."

But morals or not, Dean will kill Ezekiel … or watch his baby brother die in the bokor's place.

* * *

How many of you saw THAT coming? (Besides you Monkey ;P)

Anyway, sorry this took so long, but I have also been working on some of my other stories.

BTW, Dean fans, be sure to check out "Firstborn", things are going to kick into high gear soon in that story. And Hurt!Sam fans (which should be all of you) keep an eye on "Roses Are Red", things are about to get pretty bad for the youngest Winchester.


	19. No Choice

Okay, here's the next part. (A little longer then usual)

And I would like to apologize in advance to any French speakers out there, I do not know that language. Any French you see in this chapter was translated using a website, so I'm sorry if I wrote it wrong.

That being said, here is the next part ...

* * *

**Chapter 19: No Choice  
**

Dean bit back a long string of choice words when he saw the condition of Sam's chest and back. Long bruises wrapped around his entire torso, a black and blue reminder of the way the son of a b^%&# tried to crush him. Across his back, the blistered letters serving as a sample of the a&$hole's twisted mindset. As gently as humanly possible, Dean felt around the battered ribcage, making sure his brother's flight around the room had not caused further damage. Sam hissed and groaned with each touch, tears of pain forming in his eyes. When were those d&%^ pills going to kick in?

"Sorry Sammy." Dean muttered, after his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Not … your … fault." Sam ground out.

The look in his eyes told Dean he wasn't just talking about the bruise. Trust Sam to forgive him for handing a sadistic manic a power boost so he could have even more ways to torment people. Well, his brother may had a big enough heart to look past this, Dean could not, and would not, forgive himself if anything happened to Sam because of what he did.

"It's. Not. Your. Fault." He repeated, stronger then before.

Dean gave him a small smile and moved around to Sam's back. Looks like the little geek had read his mind. Carefully feeling around the burns, Dean let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the ceiling and floor hadn't broken anything.

"How is he?" Bobby asked, handing him some clean gauze.

"Few extra bruises, but he'll be okay."

"I told you." Sam grumbled.

Dean re-bandaged Sam's back, thinking about how he was going to get them out of this. Yes, Ezekiel was a bokor, but he wasn't hurting anyone … that they knew of. For all he knew, Ezekiel wasn't even one of the people who shot at him … or he could be performing human sacrifices in his basement. He could be the worst monster they ever faced or completely innocent, they had no way of knowing. But if he didn't kill him in eleven hours, then the doll wielding b&s%a$d would take it out on Sam. He couldn't let that happen, but how far was he willing to go to keep Sam safe? Could he kill in cold blood?

"Dean?" Sam whispered, fingering the blanket.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Don't go after Ezekiel."

Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should have know he was going to have this conversation at some point.

"Sam, it will be fine."

He got off the bed and leaned his brother back against the pillows.

"Dean," Sam begged, catching his wrist, "promise me you won't kill him."

Looking into those big green-blue puppy dog eyes, Dean didn't know what to say. How could he promise not to save him?

"Go to sleep, Sam."

"Dean." Sam's grip tightened as tears began to form in his eyes. "Please, promise me."

Dean was silent for a long time, before he broke his brother's hold and stepped towards the door.

"I'm sorry … I can't make that promise."

Before Sam could say anything else, Dean disappeared into the night.

Leaning against a wall, Dean watched the voodoo shop across the street. It was closed now, just a few people inside cleaning up. Double checking his silencer, he made his way to the ally. The plastic had been replaced, but that was easy to bypass. Silently slipping in Dean waited in the shadows to make his move.

"Ezekiel," a voice from the front called, "nous avons besoin de plus de bougies."

A man came into the back room, not ten feet from where Dean was hiding. He was older then the men who shot at him, about twenty or more years older then Dean. He had black hair, liberally streaked with gray, and tired blue eyes. His skin was tanned, and he wore a loose button up shirt over his slender frame. He looked like a harmless grandfather, but the amulet around his neck gave away his true identity. Ezekiel.

Raising his gun, Dean aimed it straight at the man's heart and pulled back the hammer. Looking up at the sound, the man locked eyes with Dean and what he saw there made him hesitate. The man had no malice, no anger, not even fear; just sorrow, as if he felt sympathy for Dean. The two just stood there, staring at each other until another voice broke the trance.

"Ezekiel!"

Snapping his head towards the sound, Dean saw the man who shot him pull out his own gun, anger flashing in his brown eyes.

"No Alex!" Ezekiel shouted.

That voice … it was the same one that saved Dean's life the night he stole the amulet.

"L'homme veut vous tuer!" Alex argued, leveling his gun at Dean.

"Abaisser votre arme, Alex." Ezekiel ordered firmly. "L'homme ne me tuera pas."

Slowly Alex lowered his weapon, tucking it back into his coat, all the while glaring darkly at Dean.

"Forgive Alex." Ezekiel spoke with a heavy accent. "He is quiet … aggressive."

"A un voleur sale." Alex spat.

Ezekiel gave the younger man a stern look and Alex backed down, but continued to glare at the hunter from under his long, black dreadlocks. The bokor gave him a small nod before turning back to Dean.

"You can put down your weapon too, son." He said calmly. "I know you do not want to kill me."

"Yeah, well whether I want to or not, I don't really have a choice."

"Why not?" Alex demanded.

"Because if I don't some maniac is gonna kill my brother, that's why not."

Both men froze and shared a knowing look.

"This man," Ezekiel said slowly, "does he have red hair?"

"Yeah, big joker smile, a sadistic sense of humor … you know him?"

Wasn't really a question, it was obvious by the way the psycho acted that he had a history with this guy.

"His name is Damion." Alex answered. "He's another bokor."

Son of a b^%&$! Why didn't he put that together before.

"He has been trying to increase his power for years," Ezekiel explained, "and I am the one standing in his way."

Hence, he wants you dead, Dean thought to himself, suddenly having a bad feeling of what would have happened had he pulled that trigger.

"Ezekiel is the stronger of the two." Alex added. "He keeps Damion in check."

"Bang up job you're doing." Dean growled. "Because while you're here selling trinkets, Damion is using my little brother as a pin cushion."

"He has a voodoo doll of your brother?" Ezekiel questioned, looking at Alex.

"Uh … yeah."

What else could that mean?

"Is that all he has over you?" The old man continued.

Dean just stared at the bokor. What kind of a question was THAT?! Wasn't a device to torture his brother on a whim enough for them? As if sensing his thoughts, Alex took a step forward.

"If all he has is the doll, then we can save your brother."

*** * * * ***

Damion started up his car, heading back to his apartment. He was getting bored at the hunter's hotel, and Dean had left almost half an hour ago. Surely he would be finishing up with Ezekiel by now.

"Soon," he whispered, glancing at the doll on the passenger seat, "it will all be over."

* * *

Hmm ... do I see a light at the end of the tunnel?

Let me know what you think and I'll hurry and write the next part. (Only 6 chapters to go. :) )

BTW, to the non-French speaking people, here is what I was trying to say ...

1) "Ezekiel, we are out of candels"

2) "The man wants to kill you!"

3) "Lower your weapon, Alex. The man will not kill me."

4) "To a dirty thief"


	20. New Allies

How can they help Sammy? Let's find out ...

* * *

**Chapter 20: New Allies**

Sam stared at the ceiling, his brother's words echoing in his head.

"_I'm sorry … I can't make that promise."_

Deep down he knew that would be Dean's answer, but it still tore him up inside. He didn't want to be saved that way, too get his legs back at the cost of another man's blood … but he also knew the feeling of helplessly watching your brother slowly die in front of you. Just a year before the roles had been reversed after a run in with a supernatural freak left Dean in the hospital with a bad heart. Sam remembers how frantically he searched for a cure, pouring over book after book and calling every contact they had until they found Roy Le Grange. But if Sam knew that saving Dean was going to kill an innocent man, would he have done it? He was pulled from his thought when the door to the hotel swung open and Dean came in … followed by two men.

"Hey Sammy," Dean asked, making a beeline for the bed, "how ya feeling?"

"Um … okay." His eyes shifting between his brother and their guests.

"Good." He turned to point at the men. "This is Alex and Ezekiel. This is my brother, Sam, and our friend, Bobby."

As relived as he was that Dean hadn't killed the guy, Sam was still a bit confused as to why he brought him home. He shared a look with Bobby and saw the older hunter was thinking the same thing as he moved to the foot of the bed. There was a defensive edge in his friend's body language, but both knew Dean would never have brought them here if they were a threat … which was probably the only reason he didn't have a gun in his hands. Turning his head back the the men, Sam recognized them from the store. The younger one, Alex, was fairly tall, but not quiet as tall as Dean, with a strong slender build, smooth caramel colored skin, and a large bag slung over one shoulder. Ezekiel was a older man, standing a few inches shorter then Alex, with a look of compassion on his wrinkled face, while Alex's expression held only anger and disgust.

"Damion est un cochon."

Sam didn't know much French, but he could tell from the tone that whatever he said wasn't kind.

"Alex," Ezekiel scolded, "there is no need for name calling."

"But he is a pig." Alex mumbled.

"Who?" Bobby asked.

The bokor opened his mouth to answer, but Dean beat him to it.

"The sadistic psycho b&%^$."

Sam almost laughed at the expression Ezekiel gave Dean, but Alex just smiled.

"My term sounds pretty nice now, doesn't it?"

"DAMION," Ezekiel started, looking between the two, "is a very troubled young man in need of guidance."

Dean and Alex snorted simultaneously, shacking their heads at the understatement of the year, and Sam could help but notice how alike the two really were.

"Ezekiel, you know I both admire and respect you," Alex began, "but the only thing Damion needs is a swift kick to the head."

"For starters." Dean added.

Based on the glare Ezekiel was giving them, this conversation might take a while, and as entertaining as it would be to see it play out, Sam had a few questions he wanted answered.

"So, why are you here?"

"They said they can stop the doll." Dean answered.

"They can?" Sam sat up straighter.

"Um … stop is a relative term." Alex admitted, dropping the bag on the floor and squatting down. "We can keep it from killing you, causing lasting damage, and block out most of the pain … but the rest is on you."

Sam moved his questioning gaze to the older man.

"We will put up a kind of … barrier against Damion's magic. It can't stop it all, but it will give you a window."

"For what?" Bobby asked.

"To get the doll." Alex answered, pulling thick candles out of the bag.

He took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Dean.

"Here's his address."

"If you had his address, why haven't you dealt with him?" Bobby asked, a hit of anger in his tone.

Alex jerked his thumb at the old man next to him and continued to take things out of the bag.

"I do not approve of violence." Ezekiel responded.

"Yeah and … how's that been going for you?" Dean questioned sarcastically.

"Kept you alive." Alex muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "We'll have the shield up in about ten minutes and it will last, roughly, an hour. That's all the time we can give you."

"That's all the time I need." Dean answered, heading for the door.

"Dean!" Ezekiel called out.

He paused halfway out the door, shooting the bokor a questioning look.

"I understand how you must feel right now, and I am under no delusions that either of you will come out of this unscathed," Ezekiel said calmly, "but I would really like it if you didn't kill him."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed, "and I'd really like a pony."

With that he was gone.

*** * * * ***

Stretching out on his bed, Damion checked his watch. It had been an hour since Dean left the hotel, and he wondered how long it would take for him to kill him … if he did. No, with Sam's life on the line he would have done it, shot him dead without a word … he hoped. If the old man got a chance to talk to the hunter ... no. Dean would do as he was told, after all, little Sammy's life depended on it.

"Of course, there is Alex." Damion muttered, bitterly.

The thorn in his side for the last few years. Damion may be a powerful bokor, but that didn't always stop Alex's fists … or bullets … or knives. He absentmindedly rubbed the scar n his side, remembering his last encounter with Ezekiel's human watchdog. Dean would kill Ezekiel to save Sam, Alex would kill Dean for revenge, then Damion would kill whoever was left to tie up the loose ends. It could all wrap up very nicely … as long as the hunters follow the rules.

* * *

How do you think Damion will react when hje finds out he is not in control anymore?

Let me know what you think, reviews are pure encouragement. (I might even be persuaded to post again this evening. :) )

BTW, I LOVE ALEX! I think he is one of my favorite OCs ... but I could be just biased.


	21. Payback Time

And now the moment you've all been waiting for ...

**

* * *

Chapter 21: Payback Time**

Dean stormed up the stairs of the apartment building. He had left the hotel eleven minutes before, and sincerely hoped Ezekiel and Alex had the barrier up because this b^s$a*d was going down. Kicking in the door he saw Damion scramble off the couch, startled by the intrusion.

"Dean?" His voice quivered at little, as he visibly tried to compose himself. "You're not suppose to be here."

"I was in the neighbor hood," Dean grinned darkly, "thought I'd just drop by."

Grabbing the smaller man by the front of his coat, Dean threw him across the room, smashing into the kitchen table. The table collapsed under the assault and Damion slowly pushed himself up, a look of rage replacing his trademark smile.

"Stupid move, hunter." He hissed, grabbing the doll from the rubble. "I hope your brother enjoyed that wheelchair."

With more force then was necessary, Damion shoved the pin straight through the doll until the tip was sticking an inch or two out of it's stomach. Dean stopped for a second, wondering if the others had enough time to shield Sam from the attack, but the hesitation cost him, and an instant later, a large piece of wood was hurtling towards him! Ducking out of the way, Dean was able to avoid a head injury as the wood slammed into his shoulder and knocked him off balance.

"Why the sudden courage, Dean?"

He looked up to see Damion casually snapping the doll's right am in several places. Oh, please let that shield be up!

"You decide that your brother's life is not worth the trouble?"

"Just the opposite," Dean growled, "he's worth the risk."

Clearly he had not realized Ezekiel was helping them, and something told Dean it was better to keep it that way. He slowly circled the living room, moving closer to the kitchen, while Damion inched his way toward the bathroom.

"Well I hope he's worth it," Damion taunted, holding the doll up like a shield. "Because there is no way either of you are getting out of this in one piece."

Dean easily slipped on a mask of confidence, but inside was a storm of emotion. Fear for Sam mixing with rage at what this sick piece of s^%&$ had done to him topped with doubt of Ezekiel's power. What if he didn't wait long enough? What if Sam was permanently crippled because of him?

"So quiet," Damion smiled, fingering the dolls other arm, "did I scare you?"

"Dude," Dean grinned back, stepping into striking distance, "you don't even come close."

A well placed kick had Damion crashing back onto the remains of the table, a second before Dean was on top of him raining punches down all over his smug face.

"Not so easy without your doll, is it?" Dean growled, pulling the b$s#a^d up so their faces were inches apart.

"You just … killed your brother." Damion hissed, blood running down his chin. "I'm gonna do it slowly … so he dies screaming."

"You won't get the chancre." Dean vowed, before feeling the satisfying crunch of the a^%hole's nose breaking under his fist.

Somehow managing to pull his leg up, Damion shoved Dean into a bookshelf, heavy volumes pounding down on him as the cheap wood snapped from the impact. He looked up just in time for the table leg to connect with his head in a white flash of pain. Crumpling to the floor, Dean braced himself for a second hit, but it never came. Wiping a trickle of blood from his eye, Dean pushed himself to his feet, following the blood trail to the bathroom. Pushing open the door, he saw straight into the bedroom where Damion was waiting for him. In one hand he held the doll, in the other was Ezekiel's box.

"It's over now, hunter." He smiled. "With this box I will tear your baby brother apart."

The image of what that d&%^ thing let him do in the hotel room flashed across Dean's mind. Was Ezekiel stronger then the box? Alex said he was stronger then him … but could he protect Sam from a turbo charged maniac?

*** * * * ***

This was impossible, Damion thought to himself, how could things have gone so wrong? He took some comfort in the hunter's hesitation now that he had the box, but he had to get the upper hand. Where had he lost control? He literally had Dean Winchester on his knees begging him to stop hurting his brother, and now it was as if The Incredible Hulk had been unleashed! He hadn't gone anywhere except …

"Ezekiel." Damion whispered, his blood running cold. "You talked to Ezekiel."

The smile on the hunter's face told him everything he needed to know. Ezekiel was still alive, and now aware on his plan. He and those minions of his must be shielding the boy, otherwise Dean would never risk a confrontation. Well, he still had a trick or two up his sleeve.

"I have some news for you, Dean," He said with as much confidence as he could muster. "Their shield my be strong … but my box is stronger."

* * *

Hate to leave you hanging, but I have a chapter of "Roses Are Red" to edit and post then I need sleep ... maybe.

I'll work on the next part if I feel like an insomniac, otherwise I'll get to it in the morning.

In the mean time PLEASE let me know how I am doing. Reviews are both encouragement and inspiration. :)


	22. Try Harder

So, I bet you all are wondering how Sam is doing. Let's find out ...

**

* * *

Chapter 22: Try Harder**

Sam bucked off the bed as pain shot across his back, fighting to hold back the scream. Minutes after Ezekiel started feeling returned to his legs … but not log before the pan started.

"I thought you said you would keep this from happening!" Bobby growled, earning a dark glare from Alex.

"We are doing the best we can." Ezekiel said calmly, placing his hands on Sam's bare stomach.

"Well, your best don't seem to be doing much."

"Hey!" Alex snapped, tightening his grip on Sam's arm. "We never said we would block all of the pain so shut up and let us work."

"Alex." Ezekiel warned, moving his hands to Sam's forehead.

He began to mutter something Sam couldn't hear while Alex burned some leaves in a bowl and blew the smoke into his face. Choking on the bitter fumes, tried to move his head away as his eyes began to water, but the bokor's hands held him in place.

"What the h^%& do you think you're doing?" Bobby demanded, pulling Alex back.

"A could ask you the same thing." Alex spat.

Ezekiel just continued chanting, apparently unaware of the tension growing on the other side of the bed. With the smoke gone, the coughs slowly subsided, bringing Sam's attention back to the pain coursing through various parts of his body … and the pending bloodshed to his left.

"Look old man, I would just love to explain this too you, but I don't have time! So sit your a^% down or so help me-"

"Alexander."

Muttering something in French, Alex shook off Bobby and returned to his task.

"Rester le calme, Alex." Ezekiel soothed, moving his warm hands back to Sam's stomach.

"Dire qu'à lui." Alex mumbled, grabbing a bundle of herbs from the nightstand.

Lighting the end with one of the nearby candles, Alex watched the plants smolder. When he hadn't moved for almost a full minute, Bobby stepped up behind him.

"I swear, old man," Alex half whispered, "one word-"

"Alex …"

Ezekiel held out his hand and took the burning bundle, closing his eyes and gently blowing the ashes so the scattered over the bed. While he did that, Alex placed one hand on Sam's forehead and grasped an amulet in the other, murmuring words to low for the injured hunter to hear. Breathing through the dull pain that throbbed in his back and right arm, Sam locked eyes with Bobby, seeing the fear and anxiety that was fueling his anger. Suddenly he felt himself lifting off the bed, and one look at Alex's face told him that they weren't doing it.

"Um … what's going on?" Sam asked, fighting to keep the quiver out of his voice.

"Ezekiel!" Alex shouted.

"What the h^$% is happening?!" Bobby demanded.

"Shut up or get out!" Alex snapped.

"Alex," Ezekiel spoke softly, as if he didn't notice Sam levitating six inches in front of him, "friends and family are never barred from the room."

"Pouvons-nous faire une exception cette fois?"

One look from Ezekiel settled the argument, though it was amazing the could see each other since Sam was nearly at eye level.

"Guys?" Sam asked, continuing his rise to the ceiling.

"Stay calm, son." Ezekiel smiled warmly. "Everything will be just fine. Alex?"

The two placed their fingertips on either side of Sam's torso and began a quiet chant. Hovering for a minute, he slowly began to lower back down. Just inches from the mattress he stoped and started to rise again.

"Ezekiel?" Alex questioned.

"Keep chanting." The older man instructed.

After several more minutes of imitated a lethargic yo-yo, Sam finally found himself settled back on the bed.

"There now," Ezekiel patted his shoulder with a comforting smile, "that wasn't so bad."

Alex shot him a look of disbelief and Sam realized what made the younger man so worried. The levitation proved it … Damion was stronger then they thought!

*** * * * ***

Trying to keep as much space between himself and the hunter as possible, Damion circled the bed room looking for an escape rout, but Dean seemed to read his thoughts and effectively blocked both the door and the window.

"I wonder how much pain baby brother is in." He taunted, hoping to get the other man to drop his guard.

"Not as much as YOU'RE gonna be in."

Damion fought to suppress his rising fear. He could see the rage burning ing the hunters eyes, the stories that he heard ran through his mind. From a nest of vampires to a coven of witches, no one seemed to survive a confrontation with these hunters. But if he was going down … they were going down with him.

* * *

So, Damion is not going to give up easily ... then again when have my bad guys EVER given up easily?

Anyway, I still have about 5 hours until I will go to bed, so if I get a good response from this I might hurry up and write the next part ... otherwise I'll get it to you first thing in the morning. So, if you want more sooner rather then later just let me know. :)


	23. Revenge Met

Okay, so I promised I would post tonight if the readers wanted it and I always keep my word.

Remember to thank sammygirl1963, Leahelisabeth, and MysteryMadchen for the quick update. Enjoy ...

**

* * *

Chapter 23: Revenge Met**

Dean watched the fear growing in his enemy's eyes, but was too enraged to enjoy it. This b^s$a#d had threatened and hurt Sam … now he was going to die! Lunging forward, Dean managed to catch him in a football tackle and the two went straight into a full sized mirror. A sharp pain in his hand caused Dean to cry out and let go of the bokor. While Dean pulled the large piece of glass out of his hand, Damion made a break for the living room. Running through the bathroom, Dean manged to cut him off on his way to the front door, sticking out his arm and clotheslining the son of a b&%^$. Grabbing another chunk of the smashed table, Damion hurled it at the hunter's head and rolled to his feet. Dean barely had to dodge the assault as the wood harmlessly bounced off the wall behind him.

"That the best you can do?" Dean smirked.

Damion responded by snapping the sticks inside both of the dolls legs.

"If you have Ezekiel doing his little trick," he grinned, "I guarantee Sammy felt that."

He was probably lying, Dean thought to himself, Ezekiel would have told him … wouldn't he? Several more snaps got his attention and he saw then every limb on the doll was now limp.

"I wish I could be there when the shield falls," the b^s*a%d's grin widened, "just so I can hear Sammy scream again."

The rage he felt threatened to overwhelm him as Dean lunged forward once again, taking them both into the coffee table.

"You sick piece of s^&#!" He growled, emphasizing each word with a fist. "I'm gonna f#$*ing kill you!"

Dean pounded his face and ribs long after they were a bloody mess, but still the a^$hole refused to give up. Something smash against the back of his skull, causing Dean to see stars. Realizing he was now face down on the carpet, he forced himself to get up before he lost sight of the maniac. Stumbling into the bedroom he saw Damion frantically digging through a black shoebox … as frantically as someone who looks like road kill can any. Turning quickly, he faced Dean, the giant psychotic smile spread across his face.

"You think you won hunter, you think that your new friend can save you, well you are wrong!" he started, a wild gleam in his eye. "I know what they are doing, I know how it works ... and I know how to beat it."

Catching a glimpse of the silver weapon Dean rushed forward, but was too late to stop the ornamental blade from impaling the black doll. No. No! NO! Laughing, Damion tossed the doll to the floor. Dean carefully picked up the object, the symbol of his little brother's pain. He saw the burns on it's arms … the singed letters covering it's back … the puncture wounds from two dozen pins … the destroyed sticks that once made up it's limbs … the flattened stuffing in it's chest … the long thick pin coming through the back … the elaborate hilt sticking out of the front … he saw everything … all the while listening to the b*s#a$d's crazed laughter. Was it true? Did he just kill Sam?

"What's wrong, hunter?" Damion taunted. "Nothing left to say?"

"Just one thing." Dean's spoke in a menacing whisper.

Jumping to his feet, he pulled the blade out of the doll and shoved it into Damion's chest.

"Burn in Hell, b^&%$!"

Leaving the bokor to choke on his own blood, Dean grabbed Ezekiel's box and charm from the bedroom floor and raced out of the apartment. He had to get back to Sammy, he had to make sure he was okay. He had to believe Damion was lying about his brother … he wouldn't be able to live with any other options.

*** * * * ***

Laying there, feeling the life oozing out of him, Damion listened to the echo of his murderer's footsteps pounding down the nearby stairs until only silence remained. He had lost. There was only one thing left to do. Using his last bit of strength, he pulled himself toward the kitchen, searching for the only items that could help him now. Quickly locating the first, Damion dug through the remains of the table, eyes scanning for the small silver object.

"There it is." He wheezed, as his fingers wrapped around the smooth surface.

Looking between the two things, he wondered which he should use first. Both were of equal importance, but he was quickly running out of time. He had to choose.

* * *

Is Sammy dead? Will Damion live? ... I'll let you know just as soon as I write it. :)

Please review, it not only makes my day but encourages me to write faster. :) (No joke, it REALLY does.)


	24. Practicing Magic

Okay, I know you want to get on with the chapter, but I have a couple things to point out.

Two chapters ago there were a few French phrases I forgot to translate. The first was Ezekiel telling Alex to calm down and Alex muttering about telling that to Bobby, the second was Alex asking if they could make an exception to their rule and kid Bobby out of the room.

Glad that got cleared up, on with the chapter ...

**

* * *

Chapter 24: Practicing Magic**

Sam gasped, his fist twisting in his shirt as the intense pain burned through his chest.

"Ezekiel." Alex spoke in a worried tone.

The old man didn't move, didn't even seem to hear him, but just chanted louder. Muttering what Sam assumed to be curses in French, Alex placed bowls of burning leaves around the bed as fast as he could before returning to Sam's side. The pain lessened a little, but it still felt as if a gaping hole had been torn straight through him.

"It's alright Sam." Alex whispered, carding his hand through the younger man's hair, "you're going to be just fine."

For a second, Sam imagined that Alex was Dean, that the concerned filled brown eyes gazing at him were familiar green ones. He prayed that his brother was okay, that any minute he would be bursting through that door.

"He'll be back soon Sam." Bobby's voice drifted from the edge of the bed.

Sam gave the older hunter a small smile; he knew him so well.

It seemed like an eternity had past before the door to the hotel swung open and his brother rushed inside. Sam let out a sigh of relief, before he got a good look at him.

"Dean, your hurt!" he exclaimed, seeing the blood splattered all over his sibling.

A red stained bandana was wrapped around his hand, his knuckles were a mess, and there was blood soaking the collar of his shirt from an injury Sam couldn't see.

"How's he doing?" Dean asked, ignoring his brother's shout.

"Better than you." Sam snapped before Ezekiel had a chance to open his mouth.

"Dude, I'm fine." He assured him, wincing when he tried to take his coat off.

"So," Alex started, squatting down at his duffel, "I suppose that looking like you just lost a fight with a mac truck is just to lure your enemies into a false sense of security?"

"Exactly."

Sam glared at his brother, making up his mind not to be treated until Dean was, but it looked like someone was way ahead of him.

"Get your a*$ over here and let me look at your head." Bobby ordered, pulling out the first aid kit.

"Bobby, I said I was fine," Dean insisted. "Sam is the one we need to worry about."

"Sam will be alright for now." Ezekiel spoke softly. "Alex?"

"Already on it." He called, mixing some oil and herbs in a clay mug.

"What's that for?" Dean wondered.

"Your head, for starters." Alex responded, adding a bit of some kind of powder.

"Uh-uh, no way." Dean shook his head, wincing slightly at the movement. "There is no freaking way I'm going to let you guys lay any of that freaky mojo on me, not after what it did to Sammy."

"This is HEALING magic, you moron." Alex said, rolling his eyes.

"Alex," Ezekiel said in a warning tone, "We do not insult the friends and family of those we help."

"Yeah," Dean added, "no more insults, you idiot."

"Try and stop me you-"

"Alex."

"He started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Alex, stop acting juvenile."

"But he-"

"I am not over him, and therefore can not stop him." The old man pointed out. "Now finish with those herbs; we haven't much time."

Scowling at Dean's cocky grin, Alex stirred up the mix and placed it on the nightstand next to Ezekiel and returned to his post on the left side of the bed, taking over the chanting so the older man was free to help Dean. With some protests, Ezekiel managed to get Dean to sit still long enough to get treated. Sam watched in amazement as the herbs and chants made Dean's injuries heal so rapidly some of the minor ones disappeared all together.

"Can you do this for Sammy?"

"Let's take care of the curses first." Ezekiel reasoned, picking up the limp doll from the bed and frowning. "Alex?"

Looking up, Alex muttered something that was definitely not part of the chanting. Ezekiel pulled out the long pin and held it out to the younger man. Keeping one hand on Sam's forehead and maintaining the chants, Alex dropped the pin into a bowl before adding herbs and topping it of with a burning stick.

"Very good," the old man praised, "now I would like you to take care of the doll."

Alex's jaw dropped at the instruction.

"Me?" He gaped. "You sure? I mean … if I mess up-"

"You won't." Ezekiel said confidently. I have faith in you. Just stay calm and you'll be fine."

Sam watched Alex take a shaking breath and move over to his duffel bag. His nervous demeanor was not exactly helping anything.

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Bobby asked, eying him warily.

"Of course I do," Alex stated, "I've purified hundreds of cursed objects … only …"

"Only what?" Dean demanded.

"If I don't do it right, it won't work."

"So?" Dean questioned. "You try again."

But the look on Alex's face told them why he was so nervous. If he failed he wouldn't be able to try again … because Sam would be dead.

* * * * *

Damion stared at the ceiling, watching the spots cloud his vision. He was almost finished. The two objects had been used and discarded, all he had to do was leave his final message.

"This is it." He wheezed.

Dipping his fingers into the cuts on his arm, Damion traced the last of his message on the floorboards. Knowing that there was nothing left to be done, he stretchered out on the woven area rug and closed his eyes allowing death to finally take him.

* * *

So Damion is finally dead ... but will they be able to save Sam?

Tune in for the final chapter which is already started and will be posted sometime today.

In the meantime, let me know what you think. :)


	25. Healing Power

Alright, last chapter. (Longer then usual, but I had to make sure everything got wrapped up okay.)

I hope you all enjoyed this birthday fanfic. (Especially you, MysteryMadchen.)

Here is the conclusion ...

**

* * *

Chapter 25: Healing Power **

Dean watched in growing anxiety as Alex prepared the herbs for the cleansing.

"You're sure you know what you are doing?"

Answered only with a glare, Dean tried a different approach.

"Ezekiel, why don't you handle this part."

The old man didn't seem to hear him as he continued chanting, one hand on Sam's head and the other placed over Sam's heart.

"He won't answer you." Alex stated, scanning the labels on his jar. "He thinks I can do it."

"Yeah well, I want a second opinion." Dean mumbled.

Alex stopped, a fist full of dried leaves half way to the bowl.

"You think I WANT to do this? Knowing that one mistake and Sam will burst into flames?"

He continued on, but Dean wasn't sure if it was in French or English since he had stopped listening at 'Sam will burst into flames'; his earlier fears of spontaneous combustion coming back in full force. Hovering right next to Alex he watched him carefully measure out herbs and dump them into a bowl.

"Now this one …" He murmured. "No … THIS one."

Dean was sure his heart stopped.

"You don't know?" He growled.

"Je pourrais me rappeler meilleur si vous ne respiriez pas en bas mon cou!" He replied venomously. _(Or "I would be able to remember better if you were not breathing down my neck!")_

"Alex," Ezekiel whispered just loud enough to be heard, "don't be rude."

Watching the man hesitate before adding a stick, Dean was starting to wonder if HE would survive this thing. Biting his tongue, literally, Dean tried not to distract the man … but big brother instincts tend to overrule common sense sometimes.

"You sure that's right?" Dean asked for the fifth time in two minutes.

Flexing his hands, Alex spoke quickly in French and Ezekiel gave him a warning look.

"Alex, we do NOT threaten people."

"We could have healed it." He mumbled, returning to his work.

Dean looked over at Sam, pain lines clearly visible on his face, and one look at his watch told him they only had fifteen more minutes until the shield dropped.

"Dude, you need to hurry up."

"And you need to shut up."

Pouring oil over all the herbs he had compiled, Alex lit a stick with the nearest candle and held it over the bowl, chanting quietly before letting it fall. The soaked plants were engulfed in flames and Alex repeated the process with a talisman, dropping it into the fire as well. Picking up the doll, Alex held it over the flames. Dean opened his mouth and found himself staring down the barrel of a .45.

"Not one word." Alex growled.

Dean didn't back down from Alex's glare and the two appeared to be at a standstill. He heard Bobby was on his feet, ready to step in, but a painful gasp brought his attention to his bedridden brother. Sam tensed at the sight of the gun, trying sit up, which must have tipped of Ezekiel because the old man actually stopped chanting.

"Alexander." He spoke firmly and calmly, like of of the dad's in those old black and white sitcoms. "Give me that gun."

With an expression of pure annoyance, Alex flipped the safety on and and held it out to the bokor. Without taking his hand off Sam's forehead, Ezekiel retrieved the weapon, placing it on the nightstand next to him. In any other situation, Dean might have made a wise-crack about getting grounded, but the look of pain and fear of his brother's face kept his mouth shut.

"Just relax and finish your task." Ezekiel instructed, returning his focus where it belonged.

With a few French curses on his breath, Alex turned back to the flaming bowl, holding the doll above it in both hands. He chanted softly and released his grip on the doll, turning quickly to see if it worked. The second the doll his the fire, Sam sucked in his breath and for one terrifying second Dean thought they had failed. But Sam just sighed and relaxed against the bed, Ezekiel smiling down on him.

"It's all over." He whispered to the injured boy, removing his hands from Sam's weary body. "Just rest now."

Alex flopped backwards so he was laying on the floor, his fists pressed against his eyes, and let out a loud sigh.

"Ezekiel … never do that to me again."

The old man laughed, picking up the mug of healing herbs and examining the word burned into Sam's arm.

"You just need to work on your people skills." He said lightly.

Alex's head snapped up and he stared at the bokor in shock.

"My people skills? THIS is how you want me to practice PEOPLE SKILLS?!" He pushing himself into a sitting position shaking his head in disbelief. "Ezekiel, you are a good friend and a wonderful bokor … but NEVER become a psychiatrist."

"I'll remember that." Ezekiel chuckled. "How about you clean up while I take care of this young man."

Grunting in response, Alex got up and put away his gun before going around the room blowing out candles and stacking up all the bowls of smoldering herbs. Ignoring him, Dean moved over to check on Sam, who was admiring his smooth, burn free, arms. Moving on the bed to support his brother, Dean helped Ezekiel erase all the physical reminders of Damion's torture from Sam's back and chest.

"His ribs will be sore," The bokor explained, handing the now empty mug to Alex, "but I did what I could."

"Thank you," Dean said sincerely.

He looked at his brother, smiling at the fact he was now able to sit up on his own. When he had seen Damion stab that doll his world stopped, but now he knew everything was going to be okay.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked, shouldering the duffel.

"Yes, I think we better get back to the shop."

"Take care of yourself," Alex said, shaking Sam's hand, motioning his head to Dean, "and keep an eye on l'idiot tempéré rapide over there." _(Or "quick tempered idiot")_

"Alex," Ezekiel scolded, "we do not insult-"

"The friends and family of the people we are helping." Alex finished, his grin widening. "We aren't helping them now."

Shaking his head Ezekiel said his goodbyes and headed out the door. Alex followed, but not before giving them the shop's business card, should their services ever be needed again, and Dean returned the box and amulet. As soon as they were gone Dean packed up the car, determined to put Louisiana and this whole freaking town behind them.

"Sam, you ready?"

"Yeah."

He couldn't help but smile when his little brother walked, slowly but unaided, out it the car. He slipped into the passenger seat while Bobby climbed in the back. Starting up the Impala, Dean headed west to drop off Bobby where he left his truck. After that … they would go as far as the road would take them.

*** * * * ***

Moving past the broken door, the young man stepped carefully through the rubble that had once been an apartment. Reaching the living room, he gazed sadly on the mangled body of his friend. Kicking aside the knife and cell phone, he knelled down, studying the mark carved into the dead man's left forearm. Flawless, as usual. Noticing the red letters on the wood, he leaned closer.

"Death is not the end." He smiled, turning to the ruined face of the bokor. "You always were one for theatrics, Damion."

Wrapping the worn out rug around his friend's body, he picked up the deceased sorcerer and carried him out of his destroyed home.

* * *

Did I say conclusion? I ment ending to story one. (My bad. ;) )

I have the sequel planned out and all I need is another birthday, so let me know whose is closest so I can post. (Besides MY birthday which is on the 18th. :) Hoo-ya 23!)

Even if you birthday is not close by, PLEASE let me know what you thought of my first unedited story. :)

Thanks for sticking with me all this time. I hope to see you all when I post number two, "Mojo Rising".


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